FLOWERS ARE RED

by Mary J. Williams

Just in time, Belle stopped herself from hiding her hand behind her back. It would have been a pointless gesture. Ashe had seen the ring—and the wedding dress. Out of sight, out of mind might work in some cases. This was not one of them.

  "If you are worried about such things, why didn't you ask me if I was engaged before we—?"

  "Fucked like rabbits?"

  It wasn't Belle's tendency to blush. However, Ashe's crude interpretation of their night together brought her close. The words bothered her. In spite of everything, she remembered it as beautifully passionate. Discovering Ashe didn't feel the same, hurt. Belle lifted her chin. Not that she would let him know how his words affected her.

  "The point is, if sleeping with an engaged woman bothers you so much, you should have used your tongue to ask questions before sticking it down my throat."

  Though she wasn't comfortable in the role, Belle could play the crude game. If Ashe's frown was any indication, she was better at it than she would have thought.

  "It wasn't like that," Ashe admitted hesitantly. "You're right. I should have asked questions. That was my plan." His warm gray eyes—void of animosity—met hers. "If you remember? You kissed me first."

  Belle felt her shoulders relax, her anger dissipated. This was the Ashe she found irresistible. Oh, boy. A little more of this and her resolve to never sleep with him again would be in serious jeopardy.

  "It shouldn't have happened." Intellectually, Belle knew it was true. That didn't change the facts. She had no regrets. It shouldn't matter, but she couldn't help asking. "Are you sorry it did?"

  "No." Ashe started to smile but at the last second, his lips flattened. "Until I thought you were using me as a last fling. It tainted the experience."

  "I didn't plan on sleeping with you, Ashe. It just… happened."

  Straight faced, Ashe nodded. "I've been told I'm pretty damn irresistible."

  Belle laughed. By the twinkle in Ashe's eyes, that had been his intention.

  "I won't flatter your ego by agreeing."

  "It isn't necessary. Your actions spoke louder than words."

  "Insufferable," Belle muttered, opening the refrigerator. But her lips twitched, blooming into a full-fledged smile. Insufferably charming. "There's more lasagna if you want it."

  "I better stop." Ashe pushed the cleared plate away. "Belle?"

  "Hmm?" Turning, Belle held one of her famous cheesecakes. She baked it the other day—just because—and planned to serve it to Theo. That hadn't worked out—to put it mildly. Since Ashe enjoyed her lasagna so much, she hoped he had room for dessert.

  "Is that homemade?" Whatever Ashe was about to say was lost the second he spied the confection.

  Belle nodded. "I love to bake. Want a piece?"

  "Yes." Ashe's nod was enthusiastic. "Is this a regular thing?"

  "Baking?" Belle measured a small piece, making it bigger when Ashe sent her an, are you kidding me look. He spread his fingers wide. "It relaxes me. When I'm at home, I am usually in the kitchen."

  "Mm. This is what I hope they serve in heaven." Ashe closed his eyes, savoring the first bite. "Why don't you weigh three hundred pounds?"

  "I'm smart enough to give most of the baked goods away. And yoga. Lots of yoga."

  "Hot?" Deliberately, Ashe held her gaze, slowly licking his fork.

  The man was evil. Refusing to jump, Belle took his question at face value.

  "I do all kinds. Hot yoga. Power. ISHTA is a current favorite. The choices are endless."

  "Must make you very flexible."

  Unoffended by Ashe's teasing, Belle cut herself a piece of cheesecake—about a third of the size she served him.

  "Down, boy," she laughed, sitting next to him. "My flexibility is none of your concern."

  "I suppose you're right." With a sigh, Ashe took another bite. "Is the wedding really a go?"

  How to answer that? Outside of Tracy, Belle had no intention of telling anybody about her Theo situation. Two weeks. As much as the delay galled her, Belle promised. There was one bright spot. Ashe believed she was engaged. Soon to be married. Since officially involved women seemed to be an issue for him—call it a no-touch zone—there was no way Belle was going to eliminate that buffer by spilling the Theo beans.

  "Theo and I are still engaged." As long as Ashe didn't push, a part of the truth should suffice. "I apologize, Ashe. In Los Angeles, I—"

  "Don't." Thoughtfully, Ashe rubbed the back of his neck. "I might have overreacted this afternoon."

  "Really?" Belle knew she had no right, but the sarcastic tone slipped out none the less. To her surprise, Ashe let it slide.

  "I was surprised to see you."

  "It's safe to say we both belong to that club," Belle laughed. "Imagine how I felt. At least you knew I was in the city. I thought you were in Los Angeles. At first, I thought the tulle from my dress made me hallucinate."

  "Does that happen often?" Ashe looked amused—and puzzled. "Fabric-induced aberrations? That's one I haven't heard."

  "The right elements have to converge. Yards and yards of fluff. A childhood bedroom. The proper state of mind." Belle sipped her water, smiling back. "It might have been one for the medical journals. Since you turned out to be flesh and bone, it's a moot point."

  Without asking—on either side—Ashe helped Belle with the brief cleanup. She offered coffee, which he declined.

  "I know it's getting late."

  "Ten thirty? How is that late for a rock star? Just a second." Belle checked her phone. "Tracy is home, in bed, safe and sound."

  "Good. It isn't late," Ashe conceded, continuing. He followed Belle to the living room. "I thought you might need to get up early for work." He shook his head. "That's another of the many things I don't know about you. What do you do for a living, Belle?"

  Normally, that question didn't give Belle pause. Vice President. It sounded impressive. And was—in its way. Few people delved further, satisfied with the title. Something told her Ashe would want more. She was right.

  "What does Vice President mean? Day to day. What are your responsibilities?"

  How to explain? Ashe had it easy. Unless they lived under a rock, everybody knew what he did. And did very well indeed. The world knew who Ashe Mathison was. His face was his calling card.

  Belle wondered what it was like to be that famous. She wanted to ask, but Ashe waited for an answer.

  "I smooth the waters."

  "Come again?"

  To Belle, it made perfect sense. However, she understood Ashe's confusion. She rested her arm on the back of the sofa, her body angled toward him.

  "My father deals with a lot of people. Daily. Weekly. Yearly. Occasionally, feathers get ruffled. It doesn't take much in this day and age of global business and one-touch emails. Misunderstandings happen. My father's style leans toward abrasive. That's when I step in and—"

  "Smooth the waters. Is there really enough of that to keep you busy?"

  "You have no idea. Last week, there was a Chinese delegation in town."

  Belle went on, telling Ashe the story that in retrospect had him—and her—laughing. At the time, Belle was tearing her hair out.

  "I get it. Your father's faux pas keep you hopping. But are you happy, Belle?"

  "Happy? I'm…" Belle swallowed. She asked herself that question all the time. Outside of Tracy, nobody else ever did.

  "It's okay." Ashe's hand lay on the back of the sofa, inches from Belle's. Closing the distance, he brushed his fingertips against hers in an oddly comforting gesture. "I can hear your answer in the tone of your voice. See it in your eyes."

  "I'm not unhappy, Ashe."

  "No?"

  Belle sighed. What was the point? Ashe read her too easily. She found it disconcerting and comforting. It was an odd combination. But what was new? Her feelings for Ashe had always been complicated. As a teenager and an adult.

  "I have nothing to complain about. Nothing. I'm healthy. My home is comfortable.
I have the best friend anybody could ask for. My parents love me. Money has never been a problem."

  "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  Belle frowned, doing a mental inventory. She drew a blank.

  "I don't think so."

  "Your fiancé? Shouldn't he be on the list?"

  Oh, boy. Leave it to Ashe to pick up on that. As far as Belle was concerned, she hadn't forgotten Theo. How could she? He wasn't an important part of her life. From day one of their engagement, Theo was never more than an afterthought. Sad but true. The usual rush of guilt didn't come. What a relief. She and Theo should have cleared the air long ago.

  "The importance of my fiancé goes without saying." Well put. Belle mentally patted herself on the back.

  Ashe seemed to accept her answer, but rather than take the chance he was gearing up to put her through another round of dodge the question, Belle turned the tables. Since she was genuinely interested, it was easy.

  "What brought you back to Boston?"

  "My father's birthday." Ashe didn't move his hand. Belle didn't ask him to. "The invitation came as a surprise—to say the least."

  "It came from your father?"

  Ashe shook his head. "Georgia. Which reminds me. You didn't mention that she was the reason you were at the concert."

  Unlike before, there was no need for Belle to scramble for her answer. When Georgia offered her the ticket, there were no stipulations about keeping the source a secret. However, when Belle met Ashe, the last thing on her mind was his sister.

  "It wasn't meant to be a secret, Ashe. It simply didn't occur to me."

  Nodding, Ashe tapped Belle's finger again. Lightly, almost absently, as if the connection was subconscious. Belle, on the other hand, was very much aware. It was difficult to be so close. To know what it felt like to hold him —bare flesh to bare flesh—knowing she would never again experience Ashe's touch beyond that little tap.

  "I knew I had to come." Ashe circled back to the reason he was in Boston. "Dad is turning sixty. Life doesn't hand us any guarantees. This could be my one and only chance to reconnect."

  Though it was hard to imagine an estrangement from her father—especially one that lasted ten years—Belle was sympathetic.

  "I admire you for taking the first step. It couldn't have been easy."

  "Terrifying. Seeing Georgia was worth it. And her daughters stole my heart. But the rest of the family." Ashe shivered as though an arctic chill had swirled through the room.

  "I take it from the way you wolfed down my lasagna, dinner with your family was not a success. Did things flame out with your father?"

  "Dad wasn't there. Business is keeping him out of town—according to Georgia."

  "You don't buy the explanation?"

  Ashe shrugged. "I have no reason not to. I never knew my father to avoid a confrontation. I doubt that's changed."

  "Then what happened at dinner? Bad béarnaise? Inferior cut of meat?" Belle lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Mushy vegetables?"

  "Nope. From the few bites I was able to enjoy, I would say my mother has herself a superior cook. It was the company that sent my stomach roiling. It didn't settle until I got a whiff of your excellent lasagna."

  Belle did a quick mental rundown of Ashe's family. Georgia was a doll. Her husband a sweetheart. And as Ashe already discovered, their twin dynamos were enviably adorable. Bonita Mathison was a chunk of ice. That couldn't have come as a surprise. His sister, Vivian always struck Belle as vain in the extreme. Me, me, me. No husband there. That left Bradley. Of all the Mathisons, Belle knew him the least. However, Tracy went out with him about six months ago. It hadn't gone well.

  "I'm not a fan of your brother."

  Ashe didn't blink at Belle's comment. "What did he do to you?"

  "Not me. Tracy." Belle hesitated. Tracy wouldn't mind, but it might not be the kind of information Ashe would appreciate hearing.

  "Did he hurt her?" Ashe's voice remained calm, but his fingers tightened on the sofa—white knuckled.

  "Not physically. Bradley is more of a verbal abuser. It was great for the first few weeks they went out. Then he began picking away. Criticizing the way Tracy dressed. Her weight. Even the color of her hair. Bradley thought the blond wasn't blond enough."

  "I hope Tracy told him to go to hell. And what the hell is wrong with her weight?"

  Belle could have kissed Ashe for that one comment alone. Too bad she had sworn off that particular indulgence.

  "There is nothing wrong with Tracy. Period. And she knows it. If he hadn't charmed her to start, she would have shown him the door after the first dig. Her mistake was giving him the benefit of the doubt."

  "He's an asshole. Where does the doubt come in?"

  "One or two insults after a barrage of flattery. Tracy thought it might be an aberration. She was wrong. Bradley somehow knew the exact buttons to push. Where Tracy was the most vulnerable. Tracy is so open she would have given him plenty of ammunition without realizing what he would do with it."

  "Please tell me she didn't put up with his shit."

  "Not my Tracy. She's a fighter. Bradley tried to leave her in a whimpering heap, but by the time he crawled out the door, he was the one with blood dripping from his ears."

  Ashe grinned. "She gave as good as she got?"

  "Better." When Tracy recounted the confrontation, Belle wished she could have been a fly on the wall if only to see Bradley reduced to tears.

  "He cried? Damn. Time to turn in his man card."

  "I don't think he was ever issued one." Belle sighed. "I'd like to believe Bradley learned his lesson. But I doubt it."

  "I can attest to that."

  "Dinner?" His expression grim, Ashe nodded. "I'm surprised he would do that in front of your family."

  "If Dad had been there, he wouldn't have dared." Ashe closed his eyes, rotating his neck. "I hadn't forgotten what my family dynamic was like. However, it had become a hazy memory. Softened by time and distance. The tension. The less-than-veiled insults. My tolerance for that shit has lowered to almost zero."

  "What did you do?"

  "I could have traded verbal barbs with my brother—and held my own. But Georgia's girls were at the table. They might be too young to understand what was happening. Still…"

  Belle smiled gently. "You're a good uncle, Ashe."

  "Maybe." Ashe's eyes opened, meeting Belle's. "Leaving in the middle of the meal worked tonight. I can't rely on that method for the rest of my stay. Little brother and I need to come to an understanding."

  "Bradley is stubborn. You might have to punch his lights out." Belle batted her eyes innocently. "Just to drive home your point."

  Ashe chuckled. "I'll keep it in mind. Though beating Bradley up might not be the best way to foster family harmony."

  They fell into an easy silence, the room dimly lit by the accent lamps flanking the sofa. Belle leaned her head back, closing her eyes. This was nice. Relaxed. She was aware of Ashe—that would never change. However, she didn't feel an overriding sense of urgency the way she did in Los Angeles. Sex was off the table. Perhaps they were on their way to being friends. She hoped so.

  "That's me."

  "Hmm?" Languidly, Belle raised her eyelids. "What's you?"

  "Listen."

  Doing as Ashe asked, Belle tuned her ear to the music playing softly in the background. This was one of her favorite songs by an artist she recently discovered. She loved the long instrumental section—dominated by a saxophone.

  "That's you?" Belle sat up, her eyes wide with wonder. "Why didn't I know that?"

  "I wrote the song. It wasn't right for The Ryder Hart Band, so I put it out there for another artist to pick up. When Jimmy Todd—"

  "Slow down, buddy. You wrote Undercurrent? And played on the recording?"

  "Why so surprised?" Ashe seemed amused by her reaction. "It's what I do, Belle. I play. I write. I sing—a little. Lately—when I find a young artist I like
—I've done some producing."

  "Jimmy Todd, for example?"

  "That's right."

  What were the chances? Belle's taste in music was pretty fixed. She had artists she liked. Her iPod was filled with The Ryder Hart Band—a bit of information she kept to herself. It was unusual for her to add somebody new. Jimmy Todd was the exception. All because of that one song. Unbelievable.

  "When do you find the time?"

  "You would be surprised how much downtime we have when we aren't touring or recording. I like the idea of restocking the shelves—so to speak. My friends and I were given a hand up back in the day. It feels good to do the same for somebody I believe in. And on that note, I should be going."

  This time, when Belle glanced at the clock, she was amazed to see it was well after twelve o'clock. Time had slipped away. Despite the hour, she was reluctant for the evening to end. She couldn't expect to see Ashe again. He was in Boston to reconnect with his family. Despite the stumble at dinner, that was still his goal. Besides, he thought she was to be married. He had made it clear that fact put her off limits.

  It was easy to curse Ashe's moral conviction. The problem was, it was one of the things that made him so appealing. It had been easier when she thought he was a blackmailing jerk. Now? Belle wished he had a few more flaws that she could hate. Instead, it seemed Ashe Mathison was practically perfect. Damn him.

  "Thank you for one of the best meals I can remember in a long time." At the door, Ashe took her hand. "Part of it was the food. Mostly, the company."

  Charming and sweet. Add on sexy. Gorgeous. Belle already knew what he could do to her in bed. Damn, damn, damn, Ashe Mathison.

  "I hope things work out with your family."

  "Time will tell." Ashe didn't get the hint when Belle tugged on her hand. He held fast, his thumb gently rubbing the back, heating her skin. "Would a kiss be out of the question?"

  That's an option? Belle wanted to jump into Ashe's arms, cover his mouth with hers, and forget the world outside her door. Would she regret it in the morning? Maybe. But who would they be hurting? Theo was cheating. Why shouldn't she?

  "Forget I asked," Ashe said, opening the door. "I don't want you to do anything you would regret."