Knowing the Score

by Marie Donovan

  “Thank you.” They sipped their champagne, and the heat built in her from the touch of his hand against hers, his body nestling hers against the pillar. They were unnoticed, but would not be for long, here where Beck was a celebrity.

  Trying to restrain herself from leaping into his arms, Ashley decided on conversation. She pointed at his red pocket square. “In honor of your team?”

  “Correct. The next time we go to a ball, I want you in flame-red silk to match.” His voice was velvety soft and seductive again. “Flame-red to match what I wish we could do now.”

  “The next time?” Didn’t they only host these every few years?

  He looked startled, as if he’d said more than he’d intended. He set their champagne flutes on a nearby table. “Would you like to dance with me?” He gestured toward the dance floor, where the lights were dimmed and the band members were tuning their instruments.

  “I would love to.” Ashley took his arm again, nervousness pounding through her. She had studied dance as a child but thumping around in her tap shoes hadn’t prepared her for this.

  A gray-haired gentleman stepped up to the bandleader’s microphone. “As all of you know, my name is Payton Pennington, and I am the current president of the Bella Florida Polo Club. On behalf of the club and all its members, I would like to welcome you to our Polo Tournament Ball.”

  Ashley and Beck applauded politely with the rest of the crowd. “Watch out—Pugsy can be a bit longwinded,” Beck whispered.

  “Pugsy?”

  He nodded at the distinguished gentleman. “Nobody calls him Payton.”

  Geez, did anybody have normal names around here? Pugsy did indeed live up to Beck’s expectations, thanking half of South Florida for their work in putting on the tournament. He finally arrived at presenting the tournament prizes. More polite applause for the runners-up and then it was the moment of glory for Beck and his team.

  “And it is my pleasure to present the silver Bella Florida championship cup to Team Pan-Florida, captained by Beckett Emery and ably assisted by Diego Castellano, Marco Ruiz and Jaime Delgado.” Ashley clapped hard as Beck and his team went up onstage to accept their prize. They were a handsome crew, and Ashley could hear more than one comment from the women around her. They were welcome to the other men—but Beck was hers.

  After several photos, he returned to her carrying the large two-handled cup. “It’s beautiful.” She couldn’t help running her hands over the exquisitely crafted metal.

  “You would do better.” He leaned over the cup and kissed her. “Besides, you’re my silver prize.”

  Diego plucked the cup from his hands but Beck let it go. “I can’t dance holding it, anyway.”

  Pugsy the microphone hog continued, “And Beckett Emery will do us the honor of opening our ball with the lovely Miss Ashley Craig.”

  “What?” She gripped his sleeve in panic. “All by ourselves?”

  “May I have this dance?” He pried her fingers off his sleeve and laced them through his.

  The center of the ballroom was empty, but Beck didn’t wait for anyone to join them. At his nod, the band began a lush waltz tune, and he drew Ashley into position, her hand on his shoulder and his on her waist, their other hands clasped together in the air.

  “Beck, I don’t know how—” she panicked. How embarrassing to stumble around clutching this graceful man, especially with the whole polo club watching. She was way out of her league, despite the dress and jewelry, no matter what the nice lady at the resale shop had said.

  “Shhh.” Beck cut through the frenzied monologue running through her head. “The ball committee asked me to open the dancing. I said yes, but on one condition: that I pick the lady to accompany me. You are that lady.” His thumb slipped between their hands to stroke her palm, his secret touch making her more agitated, not less. “I wouldn’t have anyone else. Now come closer.”

  Ashley hesitated.

  “What? I won’t bite you.” His voice dropped to a husky purr. “At least, not in public.”

  Wow. His promise dripped sensuality and blew away the rest of her resistance. She moved in closer so her breasts rested against his chest. She was the only one who saw his nostrils flare as her bodice gaped at their contact, the only one who felt the answering heat leap off his body and singe hers.

  “Bailamos.” He swung her into the one-two-three beat of the waltz. Ashley was too exhilarated to panic anymore. Beck had said exactly what Mama Rodríguez had said as they had exuberantly danced in her café.

  But on the dance floor, Beck was her master, controlling her and moving her wherever he wanted to go. After a few seconds, Ashley realized why the waltz had been considered racy in the old days. His thighs scissored between hers; her breasts pressed against his chest. And his gaze, his gaze was practically molten, never leaving hers.

  She was dimly aware that other couples had joined them, among them Mimi and an older gentleman, but they were insignificant in the web of desire Beck was spinning as he twirled them around the room. His cologne mixed with her perfume and, augmented with a healthy dose of pure sex, created a heady new scent.

  He stopped when the music ended. Chatter rose around them, but they might as well have been alone in their sensual little cocoon.

  “Leave with me.” His breath was coming as fast as if he’d just played a match, but she knew one little dance couldn’t tire out an athlete like him. “Come to my bed.”

  “When?” Her heart matched his, racing like one of his ponies.

  “I want to say now.” Wrenching his glance from hers, he looked around the room, aware of the interested glances sent their way. “But give me some time. I don’t want to be rude to those who worked so hard for this event.”

  “You’re so sweet.” She gave him the world’s sappiest smile, but didn’t care.

  “I’m not sweet.” He stared at her mouth. “I’m hungry—hungry for you.” Someone stopped them to congratulate Beck on his championship win. Ashley held Beck’s arm as they made small talk. She didn’t know any of Beck’s acquaintances and they obviously wondered who she was. Oh, how she wished Tisha could have come to the ball so she would have someone to talk to.

  But Tisha was still in Argentina while Paolo’s father recovered from his nasty case of pneumonia. And there was more news, too—Tisha had called this afternoon to tell her that the twins would get a brother or sister next year.

  Ashley had a surprising twinge of envy—not for Tisha’s fabulous lifestyle or super-rich in-laws, but for her loving husband and adorable children. And after being left by her mother and father, “baby makes three” was something Ashley had never expected to long for.

  “MAY I have this dance, Beckett?” Ashley had stepped away to head for the ladies’ room and now his mother stood in front of him. She wore a champagne silk strapless dress that matched her hair, along with a beaded short jacket. Underneath her usual perfection, he noticed an unusual nervousness—nervousness he had probably caused.

  “Of course, Mother.” He took her into his arms, noticing how fragile her bones were under his touch. “Have you been enjoying the ball?”

  “Yes, thank you. Congratulations on your win.”

  “I’m glad you were here to see it.” He guided her around the ballroom, his feet automatically falling into a box step.

  She laughed, the first one he’d heard in a long time. “I spent most of the time with my eyes closed in fear. You take entirely too many risks, dear.”

  “Life without risk is no life at all.”

  “You did inherit something from me, after all.” She blinked a couple of times. “I have to admit something, Beckett. I resented my brother for being given the company to run merely because he was a man. I knew what he was doing was wrong and tried to suggest a different path, but no one listened to me. When he failed, I was almost glad. I saw where playing it safe had led us, so I became a risk-taker. The decisions I made in those early years…” She gave a little shudder. “The board of directors and I h
ad several discussions that could only be described as acrimonious.”

  “Really?” His mother, so calm and collected, had been a maverick CEO?

  “Now, once I was proved correct, the BOD settled down. But I can’t tell you the sleepless nights, the cases of antacids I went through.” She smiled at him. “I’m not telling you this to pressure you. Just so you understand a little more about your mother and your company.”

  The music ended and his mother squeezed his hand. “Well, Beckett, it looks as if that beautiful girl in blue is here.”

  She was, and she was smiling tenderly at him. Beck gulped at his gorgeous woman, his chest feeling as if he’d taken a hoof to the solar plexus.

  “Beckett?”

  He didn’t even glance at his mother. “Ummm?”

  “We’ll talk again later.” She sounded as if she wanted to laugh and turned to visit with some friends.

  He pushed through the crowd to meet Ashley.

  “Was that your mother, Beck?”

  “Oh, um, yes.” He pressed a kiss to her hand.

  “You look like her.” Ashley craned her neck, but Beck had had enough chit-chat.

  “Come with me.” He escorted her out of the ballroom and along the path to the garden bench at the marble fountain. Instead of stopping, he led her onto the darkened lawn and behind the trunk of a huge live oak. “Kiss me, Ashley.” Before waiting for her reply, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. She eagerly opened under him, her response to him as intoxicating as the first time they kissed.

  But kissing wasn’t enough. He leaned back on the rough bark and holding Ashley, he nibbled her neck, inhaling the flowery perfume she’d chosen for the evening. “You smell great.”

  “So do you.” She buried her face in his chest and inhaled. “Even when you’re sweaty and hot, you smell wonderful. It makes me want to rip your clothes off.” His cock stiffened even more as she opened his jacket and rubbed herself on his thin tuxedo shirt.

  He cupped her ass through her dress and yanked her against him. “Don’t talk like that unless you want me to do something about it right here.” He couldn’t stop rubbing her butt, the slippery fabric sliding over the firm flesh as he wanted to slide into her.

  “Maybe I do,” she murmured. “This evening has been so wonderful already. Make it complete for us, Beck. Make love to me, here, now.”

  He groaned in desperation, a foil packet burning a hole in his pocket. He found the slit in the side of her skirt and slid his hand where the view of her long tanned legs had been teasing him all night.

  “Oh, Beck.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head up as he massaged her silky skin.

  He found something intriguing. “A thong? What color?”

  “Silver—to match the dress.”

  He pulled the front of the thong free and found the treasure she hid underneath. She was soft and wet, enveloping his fingers with her warmth. She gasped as he found her swollen clitoris. “Oh, Beck, yes.”

  He grinned and increased his pace. She was as responsive as ever. Maybe too responsive—he muffled her moan with a kiss. Her knees buckled and he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Easy, sweetheart. I don’t want you to fall.”

  “You’d never let me do that, would you, Beck?”

  “No, never,” he vowed. She was his, and he would keep her safe forever.

  “Take me, please, Beck.” She shuddered in his embrace and he swiftly undid his trousers and rolled on the condom. Mindful of her delicate dress and even more delicate skin, he wrapped his tux jacket around her before pressing her against the tree.

  She lifted her skirt high and he entered her with one stroke. They both gasped.

  She whimpered his name and caught at his shoulders as he drove into her. “You feel so good—oh—more.”

  He obliged, careful not to push her too hard into the tree, but that didn’t seem to matter to her as she hooked a long silky leg around his waist. He grabbed her ass and lifted her up and down his shaft. She reached between their bodies and touched her clit. She had never taken charge of her own pleasure like that before, and he almost came.

  Fighting for self-control and feeling the beads of sweat popping on his forehead, he mentally recited Caesar’s bloodlines, but that didn’t help since he was as aroused and out of control as any stallion.

  Her finger brushed his cock, and he swallowed a howl. He wanted this to last forever and he wanted to climax. You could make this last forever, a little voice whispered in his head. Ask her to stay with you after the tournament.

  Ashley’s nails bit into his shoulder, her breath panting against his cheek. Her pussy squeezed him tightly and she climaxed hard around his cock. It was too much for him and he followed her into the hazy bliss of pure hot, wet flesh where he melted into her and she melted around him.

  They stayed together until her leg quivered and he gently withdrew, kissing her forehead. She gazed at him with a look of wonder, as if he’d taken her on a bed of finest silk covered with rose petals instead of wrapped in his tux jacket against a tree. “That was amazing,” she breathed.

  “For me, too.” He helped her straighten her dress and brushed bark bits off his jacket before putting it on. She used a small pocket mirror to fix her lipstick but she couldn’t fix the glow of sexual satisfaction that shimmered around her. On the one hand, he wanted to show off that she was his, and on the other hand, he wanted to hide her from the prying eyes of other men.

  Ashley picked a strand of silver thread off his lapel, thread from when she had rubbed her breasts over him. He caught her hand and kissed her palm.

  She smiled at him a bit nervously. “Beck,” she began. “What happens after the tournament?”

  “I have a business meeting in New York and then Diego and I may go to Buenos Aires for a tournament.”

  She blinked a couple times in surprise. “I mean, what happens with you and me?”

  “Oh,” he replied cautiously. He’d been so consumed with his need for her that he hadn’t thought ahead. “We can get together when I come back to town.”

  “Whenever that may be.” Her full lips pursed wryly and she glanced away from him.

  Uh-oh. The only promise he’d made was that he wouldn’t date any other women while they were together—however long that was. “I’m sure you’ll be busy as well since you’ve been on vacation from your store. Your assistant will be glad to see you back.”

  Ashley looked away from him. “Oh, yes, my assistant. She’s just been swamped.”

  “Can she manage for another couple days?” In fact, he was planning to take her home with him for the night and make up for his swift performance with hours and hours of lovemaking.

  “What are we doing here, Beck? Are you and I just together for a little fun while it lasts?”

  “I think we’ve had lots of fun, Ash.” Her cheeks were starting to redden. “Haven’t we?”

  “Yes, but…”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “Things get messy if you plan too far ahead. It’s better just to go with the flow and see where the river of life takes you.”

  She shook her head. “That only works if you have a lifejacket, not if you’re struggling to keep afloat.”

  “Are you struggling, Ashley?” It was the first time she had ever alluded to her business being in trouble.

  “Does it really matter, Beck? After all, we’re only together for however long it lasts. My only request is that you let me know when you leave for Bolivia, Brunei or Brussels—wherever you wind up. Now let’s rejoin the party. My throat is dry and I’d like another glass of champagne.” She turned on her heel and made her way to the ballroom.

  “Sure, I’ll find you the best.” Beck followed her in dismay. He never meant to hurt Ashley, but she was asking more of him than he could give. Was it time to hang up his saddle and settle down?

  Diego appeared at the entrance to the ballroom. “Eh, the conquering hero and his lovely lady. People are looking for you to talk about the m
atch, and some British man wants to invite us to a tournament with one of the royal princes.”

  “Really?” The British were maniacs for polo—it would be the tournament of a lifetime. His heart started to pound in excitement. Polo was in his blood and it always would be.

  14

  BACK IN THE BALLROOM, Ashley sipped her champagne. Beck had been as good as his word and had supplied her with the very best vintage the bartender found. She thought about making a toast to them, but didn’t particularly want to see the look of panic in his eyes again when she mentioned a long-term relationship—in Beck’s case, until the next tournament.

  Instead, she put a smile on her face and chatted with friends and fans who wanted to congratulate Beck. Since he’d been the star of the tournament, one fan was Enric Bruguera.

  She hadn’t heard from him since their meeting when he had examined her jewelry. Enric chatted with Beck in his thick Barcelonan Spanish about the match while Ashley did her best to smile pleasantly and not grab the older man by his exquisitely tailored lapels and shake him until he gave her a yes or a no.

  Finally, perhaps in response to her mental begging, he turned to her. “Ah, Señorita Craig, you look even more beautiful than usual. I hope you are enjoying your evening.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “You know each other?” Beck looked from one to the other.

  “We actually met here at the pool after the first match. By some lucky coincidence, she happened to be a jewelry designer, and I happen to own several fine jewelry boutiques.” Enric had obviously guessed that she had deliberately set out to meet him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  But Beck did. “I hope that wasn’t an imposition for you, Señor Bruguera.”

  Ashley forced her expression to stay pleasant, but it was difficult. “Señor Bruguera admired my bracelet, and we started talking about our mutual industry after that.”

  “I must tell you, señorita, that Raoul was, how do you say, skeptical when I told him about our luncheon together. He thought I had been fooled by a pretty face.” He hastened to add, “And although you are pretty, your work is what impressed Raoul at our meeting.”