"Belle Richards? You probably don't remember her. She lived next door."
Ashe nodded. He remembered. And if he hadn't, Belle made certain he would never forget her again. "I didn't realize you were friends."
"We weren't." Georgia shrugged. "We volunteer at the same women's shelter. The point is, when I couldn't make the concert, I thought of Belle. She loved it, by the way."
"Did she?" Luckily, Georgia seemed to miss the sarcasm dripping from Ashe's voice.
"When she called to thank me for the ticket, Belle couldn't stop raving. I think her exact words were, best concert ever. She was particularly impressed by your performance."
Ashe covered his laugh with a cough. "She said that?"
"Maybe not those exact words. Come on. Those people I said wanted to meet you are waiting for us in the gazebo. Have you guessed who they are?"
Georgia walked on. For her, the subject was closed. Ashe didn't mind letting it go—until his meeting with Belle. The list of things he wanted to discuss with the lady kept on growing.
"Let's see." Ashe raised his voice, pretending to contemplate Georgia's question. A spate of giggles filled the air, followed by a very loud, quiet, he'll hear us. "Could it be pixies?"
"No." Georgia smiled.
The giggles grew in volume.
"Leprechauns?" Ashe tiptoed up the wooden steps. He spied two dark heads, huddled together by a table set for afternoon tea, their ponytails bobbing furiously from the joyous violence of their laughter.
"I don't think so."
"I know." Ashe grasped the girls around their waists, lifting them high. "These must be Nadia and Naomi." He looked from one identical face to the other. His nieces squealed, wiggling with excitement. "But which is which?"
"Guess," they chimed simultaneously.
Georgia had written about her girls. Alike in almost every way. However, one liked pink. The other purple. Ashe searched his memory, hoping he remembered right.
"Naomi." Ashe kissed the top of the little girl's head, right above the purple bow. Then turned, repeating the kiss, near a bow of pink. "And Nadia. Am I right?"
Big, blue eyes wide with awe, the matching nods. "How did you know, Uncle Ashe?"
Ashe leaned close to the five-year-old girls, breathing in the scent of bubble gum and lilacs, and whispered, "Magic."
Nodding in complete belief, they wrapped their arms trustingly around his neck.
"What do you think?" Georgia asked.
Ashe sent his sister a bemused smile. "For the first time in my life, I believe in love at first sight."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"THEO IS A no-good cheating bastard. More please." From her place sprawled on the sofa, Tracy blindly held out her empty glass in Belle's general direction.
Happily, Belle obliged her best friend. She and Tracy met when they were twelve. A scholarship student, Tracy entered Lawndale Academy with a massive chip on her shoulder. The Drake family didn't have money, and their blood was working-man red—not upper-crust blue. But she couldn't hold out against a persistent Belle who—despite all signs to the contrary—saw Tracy as a kindred spirit. By the second week, they were inseparable. In all the years that passed, through separate colleges and one failed marriage—on Tracy's side—that hadn't changed.
Tracy brushed her long, dark blond hair from her face. She had a nice face. Even features and expressive brown eyes. However, it was her body that stopped traffic. Forget what the fashion magazines tried to sell a woman. It was Tracy's perfectly placed curves that made the world sit up and notice. In her entire adult life, she had never paid for her own drinks. Men loved Tracy. As for Tracy? She was indulgently realistic. Fun. That was what she wanted—at least for the time being. And fun was what she got.
Tonight was no exception. After an hour with Tracy, Belle felt lighter. It helped that she could tell her friend anything. If there was one person Belle could spill her guts to, it was the one person who knew all of her secrets. Every last one.
"I cheated on Theo before I knew he was cheating on me," Belle reminded Tracy. She was angry with Theo, but with him out of hearing range, she tried to be fair.
In Tracy's book, fairness went one way. Belle's way. "He cheated with another man."
"That makes us even."
"For a year."
"Fine." Belle raised her glass. "Theo wins the bigger asshole prize. Our engagement was a mistake from day one. That falls on both of us. I didn't care about sleeping with him, Tracy. Look up going through the motions, insert picture of me."
"If I were sober, I would be too big a person to say I told you so." Tracy drained the vodka from her glass. "However…"
"You're halfway to being drunk off your ass." Belle wasn't far behind. "You are the only person I will let get away with it. Go on. Get it out of your system."
"I. Told. You. So. With a big red ribbon attached. My only consolation through this entire debacle was the knowledge that you never would have walked down that aisle."
Belle frowned into her glass. "I wish I was that certain."
"I had a plan. Kidnapping might have been involved."
"Might have?" Because things hadn't reached that point, Belle could laugh. "I hope to hell you aren't joking. If I had been stupid enough to get myself in that god-awful dress and in the church—poised to make the biggest mistake of my life—I need to know that you would have saved my ass."
"Remember Linus?"
"The cross-country truck driver you dated last year?" Belle sighed when she thought of the tattooed gentle giant. "I was sorry when you dumped him."
"It was mutual. We are better as friends. And that friend was going to help this friend whisk you away before we reached the church."
"And that is why I love you." Belle turned a blurry, considering look Tracy's way. "Maybe we should become lesbians."
"Wishing gets you many things, my sweet. This body," Tracy made a drunken gyration, "isn't one of them."
"My loss." Belle sighed dramatically.
"You have no idea." Tracy closed her eyes, riding the heady wave of alcohol rushing through her blood. "Enough about the five-second blunder."
"Theo lasted longer than five seconds." On this subject, Belle had no desire to defend her soon-to-be ex-fiancé. "Ten was about his average."
The friends had a good laugh at Theo's expense. Or was she the real joke, Belle wondered. She lay under a man while neither of them enjoyed the experience. Theoretically, she was old enough and smart enough to know better. Yet it happened. Multiple times.
"I am sad and pathetic."
"Wrong. You were sad and pathetic. That changed when you did the deed with Ashe Mathison. You are now my hero."
"It was a one-night stand, Tracy." A really, really good one night stand.
"I thought you were okay with that. A memory to warm the cockles when you're old and gray."
"I will never be gray." Belle and Tracy shuddered at the thought. Aging gracefully was one thing, but there were limits. "As for my cockles, Ashe threw a big bucket of cold water on them."
"I know, I know." Tracy waved a hand dismissively. "He broke your agreement. The one he didn't know about."
"It was implied," Belle mumbled belligerently.
"Fine. Let's put that aside for a moment. Ashe Mathison lived up to your fantasies. Correction, from your glowing review, he surpassed them. Blew them out of the water. How many times did you orgasm?"
"Multiple times." Five to be exact. "I left Los Angeles surrounded by an afterglow to beat all afterglows. That is why I resent Ashe. He showed up a month later and popped my lingering bubble of sexual contentment."
"Lingering bubble of—" Tracy shook her head. "If you can think that, let alone say it, you need more booze."
"Blame Ashe. I was pleasantly schnockered until you mentioned his name. That makes him a buzz kill—on every level."
"I think you should sleep with him again."
"Me too."
"What?" Tracy tried to sit up. Instead, she crashed onto the floor. Luckily, the area rug cushioned her fall. With great effort, she pulled herself up enough to peek over the coffee table. "Repeat that."
"Let me rephrase that. I'm ninety percent certain I want to sleep with Ashe again. However—"
"Ugh." Tracy flopped onto her back. "Why does there have to be a however?"
"Because this is real life. That night in Los Angeles wasn't. Ashe has proven himself to be a blackmailing jerk. At least I liked Theo when I slept with him."
"You can't judge Ashe on what happened earlier today. Damn. My buzz is wearing off, too. Where's the bottle?" Belle grabbed Tracy's weaving glass-clasping hand, steadying it long enough to pour a few fingers of vodka. "Ashe couldn't have known you would be there. In a wedding dress—purchased for your wedding. He slept with an engaged woman. That bit of information would throw anybody for a loop."
Belle snorted, dismissing Tracy's argument. "Women constantly throw themselves at Ashe." In her mind, Belle glossed over the fact that she could add herself to the list. "I doubt I'm the first engaged woman he's slept with."
"You might be the first to announce it after the fact—in such a dramatic fashion."
"None of that matters. Tonight, I'm drunk enough to think about making the same mistake twice. Tomorrow, when I'm stone-cold sober, that won't be a problem."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't wait. Invite him over now."
Belle laughed. So hard she almost ended up on the floor with Tracy. "Not going to happen," she announced emphatically as soon as she was able to catch her breath.
"Oops," Tracy snickered.
"Oops?" Belle sat up too fast. Grasping the side of the chair, she tried blinking away her blurred vision. "What does oops mean?"
"The last time I took a toilet break, I texted Ashe. He should be here in…" Tracy squinted at her watch, before giving up. "Soon."
"Are you crazy?"
Belle weaved her way to the apartment's balcony doors, throwing them open. In and out, she tried to breathe away her drunk. Instead of clearing her head, the cooling air almost knocked her on her butt. Grasping the frame, she steadied herself.
"Crazy like a fox. Ah, my ride is here." Tracy announced when her phone beeped. "I called a taxi just after I contacted lover boy."
"You can barely walk straight. How are you going to get downstairs?"
"Thank God for elevators. And vomiting." Her skin going an interesting shade of green, Tracy stumbled toward the bathroom.
"If you get any of that on my floor, you're cleaning it up."
A few minutes later, admirably steady on her feet, Tracy returned. "Not to worry. When it comes to throwing up, I have excellent aiming skills."
"I know. In high school, you hit Jimmy Gordon's feet with the precision of a bombardier."
"The bastard deserved it for deserting me at the dance to make out with what's her name. After catching him with his hands up her skirt, he's lucky all I hit were his feet."
"Tracy." Leaving the door open, Belle sent her friend a pleading gaze. "Please tell me you were kidding? Ashe is not coming here tonight?"
With a noncommittal smile, Tracy slid into the shoes she tossed off when she arrived. Just as she was reaching for her purse, the doorbell rang.
"That should be him now."
Following behind, Belle shook her head.
"How would Ashe have gotten through security at the front of the building? He didn't buzz me."
"You've seen Ashe Mathison—close up. All it would take was one smile and every woman—and half the men—in this complex would let him in. No questions asked."
Belle knew Tracy was right. "What does that say about the state of the world?"
"Pretty people rule—unless you are otherworldly smart. I know it isn't fair." Before Belle could remind her to check the peephole, Tracy threw open the door, literally falling into a surprised Ashe's arms. "Ashe Mathison. Long time no see."
To Ashe's credit, he didn't hesitate to catch Tracy—and continue to hold her upright. "I'm sorry. Have we met?"
"Only in my dreams," Tracy sighed, patting his chest. Smiling, she patted him again, her hand lingering. "Oh, my. Somebody works out."
"Ashe, this is my best friend, Tracy Drake. Though I might need to reconsider. Would you please make certain she gets to her taxi in one piece?"
"Sure." Ashe hooked his arm around Tracy's waist. "Do you promise to buzz me in?"
"Yes," Belle nodded. "What would be the point of refusing? You made it this far without my help."
Ashe grinned. "I lucked out. Mrs. Birch on the third floor needed help with her groceries."
At a spry ninety-one, Mrs. Birch was the biggest flirt in the building. And a hopeless romantic. Never a fan of Theo, if the woman thought Ashe was a possible substitute, she would let him into the building day or night.
Tracy waved as Ashe helped her into the elevator. "Bye."
"Call me as soon as you get home."
"Will do."
Belle closed the door, trying to gather her thoughts. Knowing she had to meet with Ashe was one thing. But this wasn't how she planned it. Standing straight, she closed her eyes, attempting to touch her nose with her fingertips. To her relief, she hit a bullseye every time. Maybe Ashe had scared the alcohol out of her system. Circling the room, Belle cleaned up as she went. More likely was the fact Belle hadn't drunk as much as Tracy.
The vodka bottle—her friend's favorite—had a big dent in the contents. When serious, Belle preferred whiskey. Tonight, she stuck with wine. A few glasses on an empty stomach made her fuzzy. But the effects had worn off quickly.
Telling herself it was a matter of pride, not that she cared what Ashe thought, Belle walked through her bedroom to the attached bathroom, stopping in front of the vanity. Considering the day's events—and a few libations to dull the senses—Belle looked pretty good. Removing the clip, she ran a comb through her hair before splashing some water onto her face. Nice natural color in her cheeks and lips.
"Not bad for a night at home and an uninvited guest," Belle declared. Thinking for a second, Belle gave herself a definitive nod. "I don't care what anybody says, Tracy's invitation does not count."
True to her word, Belle released the security door seconds after Ashe buzzed. Though it wasn't possible, it seemed as if her doorbell rang a few seconds later. Impulsively, Belle hit play as she passed her iPod. Hooked up to a built-in speaker system, music—low and a little bluesy—filled the room.
"Mission accomplished." His body lightly brushing Belle's as he passed, Ashe didn't wait to be asked in. "I slipped the cabby a few bucks. He'll make certain she gets into her apartment safely."
"Thank you."
It felt odd, searching for something to say. In Los Angeles, Belle felt so at ease. Now? Not so much. So she fell back on an oldie but goodie. Playing the good hostess.
"Can I get you something? A drink?" Joking, she added, "Lasagna?"
"Really?" Ashe's eyes lit up. "I'm starving."
"Okay." Briefly thrown by the unexpected answer, Belle moved to the kitchen. "Did Tracy's text keep you from dinner with your family?"
"No." Ashe took a seat on a stool. "I—Wait. Tracy's text? It wasn't from you?"
"My friend's idea of being helpful. Sorry." Belle filled a plate. "Is that too much?"
"Cleaning my plate won't be a problem. But let's backtrack. Tell me about the text."
Belle shrugged. Setting the microwave, she took a glass from the cupboard. She set it, and a bottle of water, in front of Ashe. "I didn't send it. What did it say, by the way?"
Ashe took out his phone, hit a couple of buttons, handing it to Belle.
I'm free. How about you? Come on over so we can… talk. If you know what I mean.
"For crying out loud."
Shaking her head, Belle set down the phone. It was classic Tracy. Stir the pot and see how things settle. Belle loved the
woman with all her heart, but there were times when she wished her friend would leave well enough alone.
"I didn't come over here expecting sex," Ashe informed her.
"Good thing, because that boat sailed in Los Angeles and you aren't getting a return ticket."
As she removed the plate from the microwave, her back to Ashe, she rolled her eyes. Not the best metaphor ever constructed, but it would have to do. It made her point. That was what mattered.
"That smells amazing."
Ashe's eyes honed in on the steaming lasagna with a look of anticipation. Considering Theo's reaction, it was a nice balm to Belle's ego. She was about to serve the meal—all happy homemaker—when she remembered why this scenario shouldn't be happening. A second before Ashe could chow down, Belle snatched the plate away.
"Hey," Ashe protested, his face falling like an under-baked cake.
"I appreciate what you did for Tracy. Big kudos for playing the gentleman."
"Who said I was playing?"
Ignoring Ashe's teasing tone, Belle's eyes narrowed with renewed resolve.
"I'm pissed off at you. Remember this afternoon? Blackmail is an ugly business, and it doesn't get rewarded with a helping of my exemplary lasagna."
"You're pissed off? If either of us is entitled to a case of self-righteous indignation, it's me."
Seeing what she was about to do, Ashe hustled around the island, retrieving the plate before Belle could dump the contents down the garbage disposal. Blocking her with his body, he took a bite. Belle had to admit, she enjoyed the way his eyes closed. The sigh of pleasure wasn't bad either. Seeing how much Ashe enjoyed her cooking was a boost to her ego, but it didn't erase his actions.
"You're the injured party? I don't think so. You were going to rat me out to my mother. Hardly the gentlemanly thing to do."
"I wouldn't have told her," Ashe assured Belle, taking another bite.
Belle snorted, unconvinced. "You threw the threat out there fast enough."
Ashe shrugged, walking back to his seat. "Tell me about the ring. It wasn't on your finger when we met in Los Angeles. Is that your thing? Playing around on the fiancé when you're out of town?"
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