FLOWERS ARE RED Page 5

  "I will look this over and get back to you."

  Which meant Elias would have his best people look it over and get back to him. Music to Belle's ears. She hadn't thrown that proposal together overnight. The figures were solid. Indisputable. After all the years of working under her father, she knew how such things were done. If they turned her down… Belle wouldn't think about that. She had a contingency plan. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to implement it.

  "Enough about business."

  Those weren't words she heard from her father very often. Especially while they were at the office. Leery, Belle waited for the punchline. Though she doubted she would find much to laugh about.

  "When is this marriage going to happen?"

  "The invitations say September fifth. That's a Saturday. I'll be the one in the outrageously expensive dress. Mark your calendar."

  "I have. Three times."

  "Theo was the one who postponed, Dad. Not me."

  "Do you know what your mother would have done if I postponed our wedding—twice?"

  It was one of those questions that required no answer. They both knew what Belle's mother would have done. She would have bowed to what Elias wanted and thanked the Lord that he wasn't calling things off permanently.

  "I can't hogtie Theo and force him to say I do." The image made Belle's lips twitch. Wisely, she didn't let it develop into a full smile.

  "You aren't bothered by his behavior?"

  Again, it wasn't a question Belle was expected to answer. Elias wasn't privy to her innermost thoughts, but he knew his daughter well enough to figure out when she was overly upset. After the first postponement, Belle shrugged it off as a little blip in their plans. No big deal. The second time she knew what was expected, but she couldn't garner a single tear or tantrum. Her parents knew why she had agreed to marry Theo. From day one, nobody called it a love match. It would be the culmination of a plan years in the making. The Richards family and the Schneider family. The power and money made stronger by more power and money. Belle and Theo were unlucky enough to be born within a few years of each other. Perfect. For everybody but them.

  They were friends. Since lust often faded and love could be an illusion, some would say that friendship was a good foundation on which to start a marriage. Belle didn't agree. It was obvious from the beginning that Theo felt the same.

  Take the way Theo proposed. It wasn't exactly the stuff of dreams. "I'm thirty. It's time I made the big move toward matrimony. And it would make our families happy. What do you say?" In what Belle would later consider temporary insanity, she said yes. Ever since she had tried to think of a way out. Luckily, Theo—in his passive/aggressive roundabout way—was taking care of it for her.

  It was obvious her father wanted some kind of assurance. Belle couldn't give him one unless she lied. Or blurted out the truth. Desperately, she searched for something in between.

  "Theo is Theo." Belle had no idea what that meant, but it was all she had.

  "How is your sex life?"

  Okay. Line officially crossed. Belle rolled to her feet. "Time for me to get back to work."

  "Women don't always realize how important sex is to men, Belle. If Theo—"

  "Check your calendar, Dad. This is the twenty-first century. Sex is just as important to women." Belle paused at the door. "And an extra head's up? We are allowed full participation and enjoyment."

  Belle had the satisfaction of seeing her father's look of discomfiture just before she turned toward her office. The fact that he brought up the subject of sex told her just how worried he was that the wedding was not going to happen. The Richards family did not talk about intimacy of any kind. Belle learned about the birds and the bees from a woefully outdated book that magically appeared in her bedroom one morning. No, it had to be a true emergency for her father to use the S-word.

  Time was not on her side. September fifth was less than six weeks away. Belle could hope that Theo would find another reason to back out. If her father was at the end of his patience rope, Theo's must be tearing his hair out. And Milo Schneider didn't have much left. He couldn't afford the loss of another follicle.

  In deference to their fathers, Belle decided it was time to put a stop to the madness. She knew what she wanted to say. The problem was getting Theo to listen. Picking up her phone, she dialed his number.

  "Belle. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  Theo sounded genuinely happy to hear from her. That wouldn't last long.

  "We are having dinner. Tonight."

  "Okay." A trace of wariness trickled into Theo's voice. "There is a new place just down the street from my place. I'll make reservations. Does seven work for you?"

  "Seven is fine, but not at a restaurant. Come to my place. I'll make lasagna."

  "You want to be alone?"

  There was actual panic in Theo's voice. Just what every fiancée wanted to hear. Since she wasn't the typical fiancée, Belle wasn't offended.

  "We need to settle this wedding debacle once and for all, Theo."

  "Don't worry. There won't be another delay."

  "My place. Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

  Damn straight there won't be another delay, Belle said to herself as she hung up. Because there won't be a wedding. Part of her felt guilty for letting the craziness go on for so long. She shouldn't have let it start. Two years they had stayed on this merry-go-round. Belle was sick of it.

  Resting her head on the back of her chair, Belle closed her eyes. Unbidden, Ashe's face popped into her head. Not an unusual occurrence. The past month had been riddled with unexpected sightings. He would be a hard man to forget under normal circumstances. To top it off, Ashe was the best sex she ever had. Sadly, he was the best sex she was ever likely to have. One day the longing would end. Or diminish. That's what she kept telling herself. Instead, it seemed to be getting worse.

  It was her own fault. Belle had wanted to make a memory. Now she had to deal with the consequences.

  One thing was certain. Ashe Mathison was not the reason she planned on breaking her engagement. Belle would never change the course of her life because of one night. No matter how mind blowing the sex. If she took Ashe out of the equation altogether, the facts remained the same. She and Theo were doomed from the beginning.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TEN YEARS WAS a long time—and a blink of the eye.

  Ashe maneuvered the rental car through the streets of Boston with ease. This wasn't the first time he had been back. The Ryder Hart Band played here last October to a sold-out crowd of enthusiastic fans. It was always an odd feeling knowing his parents and siblings were only minutes away. Regarding accessibility, they might as well have been on the moon.

  Ashe made certain Georgia knew when he was in town. All she had to do was ask, and he would have left tickets at the box office. She let him know how much she appreciated the gesture but couldn't attend because of a previous engagement. He wanted to believe Georgia's excuse was genuine. However, it wouldn't have surprised him to find out differently.

  Keeping emails and texts a secret was one thing. At one of his concerts, Georgia might be seen by someone she knew. If she wanted to stay on their father's good side—and in the will—she had to play by his rules. The day Ashe walked out the door Randall Mathison made it clear. His oldest son no longer existed. Not just to him, to every member of the family

  Yet here Ashe was, winding his way through the Beacon Hill area. Toward his old home. Toward his father. There was no way in hell Georgia would spring it on the old man at the last second. Unless she had a sudden desire to watch the old mansion burn to the ground sparked by the cinders of their father's exploded head.

  Ashe pulled onto the street he used to know so well. In the summer, he and his friends would run from each other's houses to play and swim and eat. Then repeat the process the next day. As they grew older, the games changed, but the friends stayed the same.

  Funny, he hadn't thought of the ol
d gang in years. Ashe knew he should have stayed in touch. But at first, he was too busy. Between numerous jobs and finding his foothold in the music business, it didn't occur to him. By the time he stopped long enough to catch a breath, too much water had passed under the bridge. The break from his old life had been clean. Ashe was able to admit to himself that it was simply easier to keep it that way.

  The homes along the street were old. Most were built well before the turn of the twentieth century. They were immaculately maintained. It was like stepping back in time. That didn't mean the houses were stuck in another time. Renovations happened all the time. The swimming pool was put in when he was ten. The kitchen got a complete overhaul a few years later. And the year before Ashe left, his parents added a bathroom and updated the others. It would be interesting to see how the old place had changed in his absence.

  There was plenty of space to park his car in the driveway. The four-car garage was to the side, leaving ample room for visitors. Ashe pulled to a halt, shut off the engine, and waited to work up the nerve to leave the safety of the rented BMW for the uncertainty that waited for him through those mahogany-stained double doors.

  Move. Ashe urged himself. Get off your ass and ring the bell. There was another option. He could take the chicken shit way out and head the car back to the airport. He could text Georgia that something had come up, and he wouldn't be able to make it. Who would know the difference?

  You would. Sometimes Ashe hated the voice in his head. The voice of reason. His conscience. Whatever the name, it could be a royal pain in his ass. Heaving a sigh, he found his balls and left his sanctuary.

  As Ashe grabbed his bags from the trunk, including the guitar that he never left home without, his gaze landed on the house next door. The space between the mansions was substantial but from his angle, he could see the window to what was once Belle's room. She didn't live at home—that much he knew. Before he left Los Angeles, Colleen informed him that Belle was still in Boston. Somewhere. Finding her wouldn't be difficult. When he wasn't looking, Quinn programed Belle's number into his phone. His only problem was the fact that Quinn knew how to contact her, and he didn't. What the hell was that all about?

  Quinn's answer had been simple and straight to the point. She asked for Belle's number. Belle gave it to her. It was difficult to explain his frustration to his friends since he hadn't told them about the one-night stand. Out of embarrassment for himself or deference to Belle, it seemed right to keep the intimate details to himself.

  Did he want to call Belle? Without a doubt. Would he? That was tougher to answer. After a month, his ego still smarted. He knew how it sounded, but Ashe felt as though Belle had used him as a little vacation fun. Easily picked up. Easily discarded. Easily forgotten.

  That was the crux of the matter. Belle left him a short, no-frills note. A definitive period on a very brief encounter. He was better off concentrating on the reason for his trip and leaving Belle alone.

  "Ashe!"

  Turning, Ashe saw a woman with long dark hair running toward him. Tall and slender, a cream-colored dress swirled around her legs. She looked so happy, he felt his heart lighten. Before she reached him, she stopped, looking hesitant. Uncertain. With a slow smile, Ashe opened his arms. A second later, he caught her close.

  "Hello, Georgia." Ashe lifted his sister off her feet, spinning in a circle. "You grew up."

  Laughing, Georgia hugged him tight before standing back. Her gaze took him in, her smile widening.

  "So did you. I still can't believe my brother is the Ashe Mathison." It was said with a definite twinkle in her blue eyes. "I didn't tell my friends you were coming for fear the neighborhood would be stampeded by screaming women who are old enough to know better—but prove time and time again that they aren't."

  Walking to the house, Ashe put an arm around Georgia's shoulders. "Thank you," he said with feeling. "From the bottom of my heart." The elbow to his ribs caught Ashe unaware. "Hey." Frowning, he rubbed the spot. "What was that for?"

  "You could have tried to sound humble."

  "About all the screaming women?" Hiding his smile in her hair, Ashe shrugged. "Facts are facts. I can't argue with the truth."

  Georgia shook her head, but her laugh was light and easy. "Honestly, you were bad enough before you were a famous rock star. I don't know if your head will fit through the door."

  Somehow, it felt as though no time had passed. This was the sister he had known. The one he never stopped loving. Ashe knew it wouldn't be as easy with the rest of the family, but at least he had Georgia.

  Suddenly, Ashe didn't feel like laughing. He took Georgia's hand, stopping her from turning the polished brass knob.

  "He knows I'm coming. Right?"

  Georgia touched Ashe's cheek. Her eyes met his, not wavering. "He knows."

  "Did Dad ask you to invite me?"

  Opening the door, Georgia tugged Ashe into the house. "I asked, he didn't object." Seeing the disappointment he couldn't quite conceal, she smiled. "For Dad, that was practically a declaration of how much he wants to see you. He isn't here by the way. That isn't a statement about you. It's business. As usual."

  "Sounds familiar." Ashe set his bags near the grand staircase. Looking around, he was surprised at how familiar the room felt. "I thought childhood homes were supposed to feel smaller. This one seems to have grown."

  "Less clutter. Mom went on a minimalist kick last fall just before the holidays."

  "That's right." Ashe turned in a slow circle. "There used to be a huge credenza on that wall and a table with tiny chairs over there. Weren't they antiques?"

  "Come on." Georgia took Ashe's small bag. "Your old room has been redecorated." As they started up the stairs, she lowered her voice. "Those pieces were family heirlooms. I don't know how Mom had the nerve to sell them. Dad did something to tick her off. I think it was her idea of punishment."

  "What did Dad say?" It had been a long time since Ashe had participated in Mathison family gossip. He enjoyed the moment.

  "I was out. According to Sadie, the upstairs maid, Dad went ballistic—at first. Mom waited out his tirade before saying something nobody in the staff could hear. After that, Dad stormed to his office and nothing more was said on the matter."

  His parents' marriage had always been a mystery to Ashe. There were rare moments when they seemed to share a genuine affection. Not hearts and flowers love or hot-for-you passion. Affection. Other times—most of the time—they exuded a cool tolerance. Ashe knew they had married to please their families. Four children and close to forty years later, they had found the recipe to make it last. Whether either was happy, Ashe couldn't say.

  "I know what you're thinking." At the top of the second stairwell, Georgia turned right, stopping at the third door.

  "I'm barely through the door, and already you're reading my mind?" Ashe and Georgia had always been close. When Ashe decided to break out on his own, she knew almost before he did. As much as he loved his older sister, he had always found her ability to get inside his head disconcerting.

  Georgia laughed, leading the way into Ashe's old room. "How great is that? I was afraid we might have lost the connection."

  "Mm." Ashe wasn't sure it was great, but he liked to see Georgia smile.

  "As I was saying, you're thinking how sad it would be to spend so many years with someone you never loved—probably never liked. Though I think Mom's feelings were always more deeply engaged than Dad's."

  Ashe dropped his bags. Between the odd feeling of coming home and Georgia's assessment of their parents' marriage, he felt strangely unsettled. Though it wasn't exactly like walking back through time. Saying his room had been redecorated was putting it mildly. Ruthlessly gutted would have been a better description. Nothing was the same. It used to look like a place inhabited by a teenage boy. Posters. Sports trophies. A few X-rated magazines hidden away for his eyes only. Whoever was in charge of cleaning the space must have gotten a shock when they came a
cross those.

  "It looks like the Chintz fairy suffered from a case of projectile vomiting." Everywhere he looked there were flowers. Big, ugly flowers. "Was this Mom's idea of retribution?"

  "This is Mom's idea of fashion." Georgia teasingly fluffed one of what looked like dozens of accent pillows carefully arranged on the bed. "I'll leave you to unpack."

  "Thanks, Georgia." Ashe gathered her close. "It's good to be here. I think."

  "You can decide for certain at dinner. The whole gang will be there. Dad's edict. Actually, don't bother to unpack. One of the maids will take care of it."

  When Ashe was alone, he wandered to the window. It was funny how his memories were slightly off. The downstairs foyer seemed bigger than he remembered. The space between the Mathison house and the Richards seemed larger. In his mind, he had pictured Belle's window much closer. The yard on his side of the dividing fence went on for at least twenty feet. His guess was the distance was close to that on her side. Still, it wouldn't have been difficult to open the window and toss out a wave or a hello.

  Teenage Ashe hadn't known Belle was so close. He hadn't thought about it. More fool he.

  Catching movement in Belle's window, Ashe moved closer. He knew the chance it was her was slim to none. He hadn't learned a lot about her, but he knew she no longer lived at home. However, that didn't stop him from opening the window for a better look. Just in case.

  "I HEARD YOU the first time, Mom." When dealing with her mother, there were times when Belle understood how someone could be driven to drink.

  "Don't take that tone with me, Belle Millicent Richards." Belle barely controlled a shudder. Millicent. Lord, she hated that name. "I want you to try on your wedding dress. I swear you've lost weight. Now is the time to get any necessary alterations taken care of."