FLOWERS ARE RED Page 3

  "Here you go."

  Taking the bottle, Belle smiled, trying hard to think of something to say. It had been a breeze with Dalton. Nerves didn't stop her. Those had dissipated long ago. It was the realization that she didn't know this man. She never had. Ashe had always been a concept more than a reality. Quinn invited her backstage because Belle claimed a connection. But what they had was superficial at best.

  "I'm sorry about this." For something to do, Belle took a sip of the beer. "I should have stopped Quinn. I've been foisted off on you with no warning."

  "Hardly foisted."

  Ashe's warm gray gaze hadn't wavered. It made Belle intensely aware of everything. The way her heartbeat spiked and her breaths became shallow. Heat rushed over her skin. Belle knew what attraction felt like. At least she thought she did. This was different. It was… more. Wonderfully potent. She wished it were possible to pack the feelings in her suitcase and take them with her back to Boston.

  "I'm barely an acquaintance. Not even that. It's kind of you to pretend otherwise."

  "What makes you think I'm pretending?" When Ashe smiled, Belle felt a lovely warmth in the pit of her stomach. "I recognized you almost instantly."

  "That was a surprise." To say the least. "I didn't think you knew I was alive back then."

  "Back then, I was wrapped up in a lot of family drama. And I was a self-centered teenage boy. However, only a blind man could fail to notice you."

  Ashe brushed her hand with his. One little touch. Less than strangers passing on a crowded street. Belle knew it was silly. Juvenile. But it left her slightly breathless.

  "Come on." The reaction of her body was one thing. Her brain worked fine. Fully grown with a woman's maturity and intelligence. She knew a load of bullshit when she heard it. "In all the years we lived next door to each other, we barely spoke. Now you expect me to believe I made a lasting impression?"

  "Ah ha!"

  Belle jumped. Literally. "Excuse me?"

  "You told Quinn that we had never spoken. Never. I wondered how that was possible. Now you admit we did speak. Hence, ah ha."

  Hence? Belle laughed. It wasn't a word she heard every day. However, she wasn't going to let that sidetrack her. Ashe looked mighty smug. Time to knock him down a peg. Or two.

  "Until just now, you weren't certain, were you?"

  "No. But—"

  "You can't recall a single conversation. Not a single moment when we interacted."

  "That may be true. Still, I—"

  "Is it any wonder I was surprised that you recognized me? And knew my name?"

  Belle enjoyed the disconcerted expression on Ashe's face. At this moment, he wasn't a world-famous rock star. He was the boy next door. Only, Belle had no reason to blush or duck out of sight every time he passed by. They were on equal footing as adults. No. Not equal. For once, Belle had the upper hand. It brought a smile to her lips.

  "Whatever you have on your mind, think again. The point—the only thing that matters—is that I knew you."

  Yes, he had. The knowledge didn't diminish Belle's enjoyment of their light banter. Just the opposite. All that time when she was dreaming in her bedroom—wishing he knew she was alive—the truth was, Ashe Mathison had noticed her. Belle wondered what her fifteen-year-old self would have done with that exciting bit of information. She didn't have to search very hard for the answer. What would she have done? Absolutely nothing. She had been too shy to make the first move on any boy. Experience wise, Ashe had been so far out of her league it was mind boggling to even contemplate. Belle wouldn't have known what to do with him. If she had worked up the nerve to try, the only outcome would have been complete and abject humiliation.

  However, Belle was curious. If Ashe liked what he saw, why hadn't he done something about it?

  "You could have asked me out."

  Slowly, Ashe shook his head. Again, he touched her hand, lingering. "There were so many reasons why that would never have happened."

  "Give me three." Belle couldn't help herself. She wanted to know.

  "Ashe!" From across the room, Dalton called out. "It's closing time, brother. The folks at the Hollywood Bowl want to put the old girl to sleep."

  "Right behind you." Ashe met Belle's gaze. "Your question will have to wait."

  Until when? The last thing Belle had was time. At nine tomorrow morning, her plane would leave for Boston. This strange interlude would be over, and she would never know. If one of them had stepped left instead of right, was there a possibility—even a minuscule one—that her life would be different today? More important, did she want to know? What if. It was a dangerous game to play. Especially for a woman who was already trending toward dissatisfied with her life.

  Who was she trying to fool? Belle had passed dissatisfied long ago. A few hours and a few questions answered. It wouldn't make things worse. It couldn't. Maybe, if she were lucky, Belle would return home with an imperceptible spring in her step. It didn't matter if nobody noticed. She would know.

  "Do you have someplace to be?"

  "No." Ashe tipped his head to the side, his lips slowly curving up. "What did you have in mind?"

  "Nothing that provocative." At least that was what Belle told herself.

  "Too bad." Laughing, Ashe took her hand, tucking it into the curve of his elbow. "The rest of my night is yours."

  "Two old acquaintances catching up?"

  "If that's what you'd like. Sure. Why not?"

  Belle knew she was playing with fire. Everything that came out of Ashe's mouth sounded like a come on. The rest of my night is yours. If that's what you'd like. Deep in her secret desires, Belle knew what she would like. Was she capable of taking it? She was about to find out.

  "Ashe?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Let's go to your place."

  THE LUXURIOUS DOWNTOWN condominium was so perfect, Belle was speechless. She imagined Beverly Hills. A huge mansion behind a security-tight gated community. A man of Ashe's high profile needed to keep out the crazies. He deserved the sense of well-being a place like that would provide. That was what she had expected.

  Not that the condominium was scaled down. The wide-open living room was huge. Hardwood floors gleamed from corner to corner, flowing into a kitchen that made her drool with envy. Belle loved to cook. It was something she discovered when she moved into her own place. Without her parents' full-time cook to provide meals, it was either learn to make her own or rely on going out and order in. Surprising herself—and her friends and family—Belle became a talented amateur chef. As with most things, she learned cooking was as much about confidence as skill. As soon as she lost her hesitancy, she flourished. Baking was her latest favorite activity.

  "I covet your double oven." Belle ran her hand over the professional-grade appliance.

  "I've never heard that one before." With a chuckle, Ashe handed her a glass of brandy. "Most people go straight for the view. You're the first visitor to fondle my stainless steel."

  Not the least bit embarrassed, Belle moved from the oven to the counters. "Poured concrete?"

  "So I understand."

  "Sub-Zero." Belle sighed when she caught sight of the refrigerator. Inspired, she took out her phone. "I need a picture. This is practically my dream kitchen."

  "Practically?" Ashe stood behind her, taking it in from her angle. "What would you change?"

  "I want a huge island. One with a cook top and sink for prepping vegetables and so forth. The rest would be tweaking. Color schemes. A different backsplash. But the layout is fantastic. Very cook friendly."

  "Good to know."

  "Are you laughing at me?" Belle put her phone away. When she looked at Ashe, his smile was warm, not derisive. "I tend to get carried away when something interests me."

  "Come with me."

  Naturally, as though he did it every day, Ashe took Belle's free hand. Large and strong, it felt good in hers. He led her down a well-lit hallway. The walls were covered
with pictures that another time Belle would have loved to spend time perusing. Ashe's life. Friends. Fellow musicians. Unlike the photographs in her parents' home, they didn't appear to be professionally posed portraits where the subjects stared glassy-eyed at the camera, their smiles wooden. What drew Belle the most was the candid nature of the shots. They made her wish she had been there to hear the music. To share the good times.

  At the end of the hall, Ashe opened a door, flipping on the light switch.

  "Passion, Belle. You find it in the kitchen. This is where I find mine."

  Carefully, Belle entered. The room was wall-to-wall instruments. Some were tucked in corners, others hung on the walls. There was order to the chaos. Though crowded, everything appeared to have its place. In the center of the room, in a place of honor, sat a grand piano.

  Unlike the appliances, Belle was reluctant to touch. As though sensing her dilemma, Ashe took her hand, placing it on the smooth surface.

  "It's beautiful, Ashe." For some reason, Belle felt the need to speak in hushed tones. She circled the piano, sitting on the bench. Her gaze took in the filled room. Most of the instruments were familiar to her, others, not so much. On the far wall was an intriguingly curved horn, the wood from which it was crafted meticulously polished to a dazzling finish. Belle had never seen anything like it.

  "I began collecting before I could afford to. Some are priceless. Some I bought for a song—literally." The memory brought a smile to Ashe's face that took Belle's breath away.

  "Can you play them all?"

  "Yes." There was no bragging in Ashe's tone. Plain and simple. Fact was fact. "Do you play?"

  Belle plucked out an awkward tune. She had taken piano lessons for about a month. Though she sometimes wished she had stuck with it, she hadn't the patience. Lips curving into a self-deprecating smile, Belle did their ears a favor, pulling her hand away.

  "Does that answer your question?"

  Setting his glass to the side, Ashe lightly laid his long fingers on the keys. There was nothing awkward in the way he played. Just a few notes and she was drawn in—wanting more. The tune was unfamiliar, but it enveloped her in its beauty. Belle closed her eyes. She cupped her brandy in both hands, sipping the warm liquid. Simultaneously, the alcohol and music entered her blood. Heady, they mixed, swirled, making her giddy.

  "This song is a little rough. I can't quite get a handle on it."

  "It's beautiful."

  "It will be. Eventually. You, lovely Belle, already are. You always have been."

  Belle didn't know if it was the music, the brandy, Ashe's words. Or the way his breath caressed her cheek. She didn't want to think too hard. She didn't want to stop or worry about the consequences. All she wanted to do was feel. For once, Belle wanted to jump. Safety net be damned, she closed the small distance that separated them and kissed Ashe.

  It was a bold move—at least for Belle. She wasn't a virgin, but her experience was limited. Because it wasn't her nature to let a man know when she was interested, she waited for them to make the first move. While there had been a fair share of propositions, most she turned down because there was no overriding need to say yes. There was no question of that with Ashe. She wanted him. From the way he kissed her back, it seemed he felt the same.

  "This isn't what I expected." Ashe touched the corner of her mouth with his tongue.

  "No?" Belle had hoped. She had tried to talk herself out of it. But the effort had been half-hearted at best.

  "I wanted to get to know you. Conversation before carnality." Ashe slipped his hand under the hem of Belle's shirt, his calloused fingertips playing with the soft skin at the base of her back.

  "Carnality? Good word."

  Descriptive. Appropriate. For the first time in her life, Belle felt her body taking over from her brain. She always thought too much before sex. And during sex. After, she thought that sex was much ado about nothing. Telling herself to let go was one thing, doing it was another. With Ashe, she didn't think about anything beyond his taste and touch. Belle smiled when she heard Ashe groan. It was a good sound. Better, knowing her hand cupping him through his jeans was the cause.

  "You're killing me and my good intentions, Belle."

  "Do you want me to stop?" Please say no, Belle begged silently.

  "What the hell." Ashe scooped her into his arms, heading across the room and out the door. "Conversation is overrated."

  "You can talk to me during." Belle like that idea. It wasn't a novel idea, simply one she had never implemented.

  "Dirty talk?" Ashe kissed her, his lips perfectly firm. "Is that what you like?"

  Belle had no idea. But it sounded good. One night. That was all she had. That meant no holding back. On anything.

  "How dirty can you get?"

  Ashe's gray eyes twinkled mischievously. He tossed her onto the bed, following close behind. "Foul. Think you can take it?"

  "Try me."

  "Remember. You asked for it."

  The words weren't unknown. At one time or another, Belle had heard—or read—them all. What made her blood heat and her bones melt was the way Ashe strung them together. Talk about imaginative. Belle's skin flushed, then burned—in the best possible way. Words were great. However, when Ashe added action, she wondered if the world would fly off its axis. Or perhaps it was only her. Gravity was no longer an issue. She defied the laws of nature. Belle wasn't floating. Ashe was teaching her how to fly.

  Magically, Belle's clothing disappeared. One second she wished she could feel Ashe's skin against hers, the next, her desire became reality.

  "You're a magician," Belle declared with a sigh.

  When had her breasts become so sensitive? The second Ashe kissed the tips, moving from one to the other, drawing the straining peak into his mouth.

  "Now you see me." Ashe slid down Belle's body. "Now you don't."

  It wasn't that Ashe dematerialized. Belle knew exactly where he was. And what he was doing with his mouth—between her legs. Seeing him did become a problem. With her head tipped back in abandon, her eyes closed and her senses concentrated on the center of her pleasure. One little spot. Expertly manipulated. If that wasn't magic, Belle didn't know what was.

  "Talk to me, Belle."

  Clutching at Ashe's hair, holding him close, Belle struggled to form a coherent thought. Words? How did they work? She opened her mouth, but all that came out was one long, heartfelt moan. It must have been what he was looking for.

  "There you go." Ashe kissed the ultra-soft skin on the inside of her thigh. "Music to my ears."

  Belle wanted to laugh, but Ashe chose that moment to renew his ministration. A lick followed by his teeth, and an amazingly erotic bite to just the right spot, sent her bursting over the edge from amusement to orgasm in the blink of an eye. Or in this case, the lap of a tongue.

  Like a feather. That was how Belle felt as she came back to Earth. Light. Breezy. Free.

  "I think the top of my head blew off. And you know what? I couldn't care less."

  "Nope." Ashe slid his fingers through her hair, massaging Belle's scalp. "Completely intact. Good thing, too. I am not nearly finished with you."

  "Is that so?"

  "Ready for round two?"

  In spite of feeling like a very satisfied limp rag, a surge of adrenaline shot through her. Belle watched through barely raised eyelids as Ashe rolled on a condom. Thoughtful. They hadn't discussed protection—much to her chagrin. Thank goodness one of them had maintained the sense to play it safe.

  "I was taught to always be polite." Belle brought Ashe in for a long, lusty kiss. "Thank you. For before. As for another round? Yes, please."

  "So sweet." Moving to his knees, Ashe entered her slowly, keeping his eyes pinned on hers. "This is my way of saying you're very, very welcome."

  It didn't take long for polite chit chat to fly out the window. Down and dirty. Hard. Fast. There wasn't time to breathe, let alone talk. Ashe took Belle up, up, up
. Higher than the first time until she was certain she saw stars. And a burst of sunlight. Was that possible? Scientists might scoff, but Belle would have sworn to it. Not that she planned on telling anybody. This was between her and Ashe. Wonderfully, completely private.

  No more imagining how it might be. Ashe had given Belle a perfect memory to treasure. And she knew she would. Forever.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ASHE HAD ALWAYS been a morning person. As a child, he was always the first one up—except for the cook. She rose before dawn to start the dough for the bread his father insisted she bake fresh every day. Ashe would sit, eating his cereal, not terribly interested in what she was doing. His mind was already racing ahead toward the day's activities. The whys and wherefores changed as he grew older. But the process never had.

  The desire to rise with the sun wasn't the best fit with Ashe's adult lifestyle. He was a musician. That meant late nights. Concerts. Recording sessions. After parties for both. His job screamed night owl. His internal clock had never gotten the message. No matter how late his head hit the pillow, Ashe woke early. However, there were exceptions. Between the concert and Belle, last night turned out to be one of them.

  Opening his eyes, Ashe frowned when the burst of sunlight blinded him. What the hell? He never closed the bedroom curtains because he was always awake to greet the dawn. Unless he was just getting in. Either way, it was disconcerting to find the sun so far up in the morning sky. Ashe was about to roll out of bed when he remembered why he was still there.