Sudden Pleasures

Chapter 2

Ryan Finbar Mulcahy winked at the receptionist in the foyer of Alexander, Stoddard, and Kingsley as she told him to go right into Mr. Pietro d'Angelo's office. He heard her giggle behind him, and he grinned. She was petite and blond and cute. Just the kind of girl he'd marry if she weren't so damned young. Was she even twenty? he wondered. And he winced, realizing that the receptionist was probably young enough to be his daughter. He had nine months to go until he was forty. It was a sobering thought.

"What's up, Ray?" he asked as he lowered his long frame into a chair opposite the desk. "What's so urgent that you have to drag me from work?"

"Your mother called me a few weeks ago," Ray began. "She and Frankie don't like what your other sisters are doing. You know they've lined up a buyer for R &R, don't you? What the hell is the matter with them, Ryan? Wasn't what your dad left them enough? Unfortunately there's no way around your dad's will."

"What did Ma want?" the younger man asked.

"To arrange a marriage for you," Ray said, watching to see what Ryan's reaction to this news would be.

"So she did it, did she?" Ryan Finbar Mulcahy laughed. "She's been threatening to sic a matchmaker on me for a year now. She says she and Dad were matched and made a go of it. There's no reason I can't. And Frankie's in on it too? "What a sweetie that baby sister of mine is," he said.

"I found a possibility," Ray continued, and swallowed a chuckle at the look of surprise on his client's face. "She's got the same problem you have-a will that says she's got to marry or lose it all. You've got enough in common to at least meet. I want to arrange it."

"Look, Ray, if I can't drum up enough money to buy the business from the estate, then I'll start all over again, and screw my sisters," Ryan said stubbornly. "Five spoiled little bitches. Only one of them worth anything is Frankie."

"Don't be a fool," Ray replied. "R6cR has a reputation. You willing to give that reputation away to someone else? Especially a son of a bitch like Jerry Klein? Right now he's the high bidder, and he's going to stay the high bidder because he wants R &R. And all you have to do to save your ass is get married."

"I don't like being told what to do," Ryan answered irritably.

"Funny thing-neither does my cousin Joe's client. But unless she gets married by the time she's thirty-five she loses everything she's worked for, because her grandfather thought a woman had to be married to be happy and safe," Ray said candidly. "You see? Already you've got similarities."

"She's thirty-five?"

"She's thirty-three."

"Why isn't she married? Fat? Ugly? Warts?"

"She's been engaged three times, and each time it's fallen through," Ray remarked.

"Difficult, huh? A diva."

"No, unlucky. She's smart in business, but not in men. They wanted her money," Ray said. It was the easiest explanation to offer right now.

"Is she pretty?" Ryan asked.

"I wouldn't know. I've never met her. She lives in a small town called Egret Pointe about a hundred miles from the city," Ray said.

"What kind of business?" Ryan wanted to know.

"She has a lingerie shop," was the answer.

"Doesn't sound like big business to me."

Ray chuckled. "It's upmarket, many one-of-a-kind things. She started small; then came the catalog, and now she's opening two new stores-one here in town, and the other in an elegant suburban mall. It's called Lacy Nothings."

"Geez, Frankie buys stuff from that catalog. It's as expensive as hell, and since there's very little of it I don't know why," Ryan said.

Ray laughed. "My cousin-he's her lawyer-says she's a very nice girl. What could it hurt to meet her? She's got no illusions about any arrangement that you two would make. Joe says her house is gorgeous and filled with antiques. It would be a great place to entertain, and she would be a terrific hostess. She'd know how to speak to your fancy-shmancy clients, Ryan. Her grandfather was probably one of your father's clients."

"Has Miss Lingerie Shop got a name?" Ryan asked. The truth was, his interest was piqued. The girl Ray was describing was young enough to be a mother, and he did want kids; and she probably had people running her business for her, so she could be a wife and mother. She had her own money. Her own house. And she needed to get married in order to keep them. Actually it could be a perfect solution to his problems too.

"Her name is Ashley Kimbrough," Ray said.

"Pretty name," Ryan allowed. "So when do you want to set up this meeting?"

Ray smiled. "Let me talk to Joe. You're not due to fly off anywhere soon, are you? I know your schedule is pretty frantic these days."

"I'll make time, and no, I'm not going anywhere at the moment," Ryan said. "Why don't we make our first meeting in Egret Pointe. Miss Lingerie-Ashley-would probably be a bit more comfortable there than here," he suggested.

"Thoughtful," Ray teased him. "Shows your sensitive side."

"Bite me!" Ryan shot back, and then he unfolded himself from the chair. "If that's it, I gotta go. Bill me for the time."

"Bite me!" Ray laughed. "You're going to get a big fat bill from ASK when this is all over, buddy. I may even get the senior partners to start up a new department. Matchmaking for Millionaires." And he laughed harder as he waved Ryan from his office. Then, clicking his intercom button, he said, "Nancy, get me Joe in Egret Pointe." And a minute or two later his assistant signaled him, and he picked up the phone. "Joe, Ray. We're coming shopping. Any one day better for you than another?"

Joe Pietro d'Angelo masked a deep sigh. "Where do you want to meet?" he said.

"Ryan wants to come out to Egret Pointe," Ray answered him. "He thought it might be easier on Ashley. Nice, huh?"

"Yeah, very nice," Joe acknowledged. "We could make it Friday, and you and Rose could stay the weekend with Tiff and me."

"Sure, why not? I can get Ryan back without having to go into town myself," Ray said. "Yeah, Friday. Eleven a.m. okay with you?"

"Hang on, and let me call Ashley," Joe replied. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Lacy Nothings. "Morning, Nina. Would you put Ashley on, please? You still there, Ray?"

"I'm here," his cousin's voice responded.

"Ash, listen, my cousin and his client would like to meet here in our offices on Friday at eleven. That okay with you?"

"So soon? Gee, Joe, this guy must really be desperate," Ashley said.

"No more so than you, honey. Bring a sandwich and eat with Tiff and me in an hour. I'll fill you in, okay? Eleven Friday, then?"

"Why not?" Ashley said. "Best to get it over with. See you in an hour."

Joe flipped the cell shut and turned back to his office phone. "Okay, we're on, buddy. I'll see you Friday." Hanging up the phone, he buzzed his wife in her cubicle and waited for her to come in, and when she did he said, "We've got a first meeting Friday."

Tiffany clapped her hands together. "That's just terrific, Joe." And throwing her arms around his neck she gave him a quick kiss. "Now," she said, stepping back, "tell me all about the guy. Is he tall, dark, and handsome? Does he have family? What's his name? Give! I want to know everything."

"Ashley is coming over to have lunch with us," Joe said. "I'll tell you both everything I know then, and not before," he told her.

Tiffany shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not happy," she said glowering.

He grinned. "Go get a chocolate bar," he teased her.

"I'm going to need a quarter-pound box of Godiva to bring my mood back up," she grumbled. "Or maybe a bag of truffles." Tiffany considered. But she waited because there was no other choice until noon, when Ashley arrived carrying a carton of Columbo Light Key Lime Pie yogurt, and a little silver spoon. "You keep a silver spoon in your desk?" Tiffany said, impressed. "Now that is cool."

They were in the little conference room of the firm. It had big windows that overlooked Main Street with its big trees lining it. Rick had come in to listen and, spreading their lunches on the big table, which was an elegant old door covered with a glass top, they all now turned to Joe, who was thoroughly enjoying a meatball hero from the local pizza place.

"Nobody makes sauce like Angelo," he said, licking his lips.

Ashley dipped her spoon into the pale green yogurt.

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "He got the recipe from his grandmother in Rome."

Tiffany fished a crouton from her salad and ate it. "Talk," she said.

Joe took another bit of his hero and then, grinning, put it down, looking at Ashley. "His name is Ryan Finbar Mulcahy. He owns an outfit called R8cR-Restorations and Replications, Inc. His father started the business and did nicely. Ryan graduated college and took over the company to build it into a multimillion-dollar establishment. But it was still the old man's company. When he died a couple of years ago the old man left each of his daughters a quarter mil, and the wife the house and a good income. Everything else went to Ryan on the proviso that he be married by the time he was forty. He'll be forty next spring, and he hasn't even come close to getting married," Joe said.

"What's the problem?" Ashley wanted to know.

"The guy is a workaholic," Joe said. "His old man was the craftsman, the artisan. Ryan knows what good is, but his head is more for the business. It was his idea to add the reproductions branch of the business. There's a lot of money out there today, and new money wants to look like old money. But there are only so many antiques to go around. So R &R designs seventeenth- and eighteenth-century repros that look every bit as good as the real thing. The business is booming. And Ryan hasn't had a moment to get a relationship going with any woman. But if he isn't married by forty, he's out, the business is sold, and his sisters get the benefit of the sale."

"What if he doesn't like me?" Ashley asked.

"What if you don't like him?" Joe countered. "Look, Ash, life is at best a crapshoot. You toss the dice and hope you don't hit snake eyes. You've hit snake eyes three times now. I think it past time for you to make craps. Ray is bringing him out tomorrow for an initial meeting. No promises. No obligations. You're just both going to take a look at each other to make certain you're human."

"Let's Google him," Tiffany said.

"Of course!" Ashley agreed. "Now that we know his name and his business name we can look him up."

"In my cubicle," Tiffany replied, standing up from the conference table. "Come on, Ash. Enjoy your lunch, boys!" She hurried out with Ashley following with her yogurt.

"What do you think?" Rick Johnson asked his partner.

"I think we've got a shot," Joe responded, "if they click."

"An arranged marriage. It sounds so cut-and-dried. So loveless," Rick said. "I thought people had to fall in love to get married. What are they going to do about the sex, I wonder?"

"That's one matter they'll have to negotiate themselves," Joe said, grinning. "We can set up the prenups with Ray, but the rest of it is going to be up to them."

"What do you think he's like, this Mulcahy guy? Is he really so busy he can't make time to go courting?" Rick wondered.

"Want to check out what the girls have found?" Joe said as he picked up the second half of his hero.

"And let them know we're as nosy as they are? I think not," Rick said. "I'll wait till I get home to Google him. Carla's filling in tonight at the hospital for one of the night nurses. She won't be home until around eleven thirty. God, I hope she likes him. We gotta get Ash settled, and soon. Old Kimbrough will come out of his grave if we let his wealth go to SSEXL."

"Then he shouldn't have been such a smart-ass and added that clause to the will. I told him not to do it," Joe grumbled. "Mulcahy is probably all right. Have you ever seen an ugly Irishman, Rick?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I have," Rick replied. He cocked his head to one side. "Did you just hear a 'woo-woo' from Tiff's cubicle?"

"Oh, my God!" Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo stared at the computer screen. "Well, he ain't ugly," she said. "You're going to have beautiful babies, honey."

But Ashley wasn't really looking at the face on the screen. She had given it a quick passing glance to ascertain whether he was normal-looking, and then she had moved on to his biography. He had gone to Catholic school first, done his undergrad work at one of the state universities, then gotten a second degree from the Wharton School of Business. Smart, Ashley thought. The state school was cheap, and good for a bachelor's. It was the grad school that had to be the best, and it was.

"Will you look at that face!" Tiffany enthused.

"He's nice-looking," Ashley said, "but I'm more interested in his background."

"Nice-looking?" Tiffany said, surprised. "He's a god."

"Look at how fast he brought his father's business from just a restoration house making a nice bottom line to a restoration and reproduction business with an incredible bottom line. Boy, I would love to do that myself for Lacy Nothings. Think he would give me some advice, Tiff?"

"I don't believe you," Tiffany said, exasperated. "Here is this gorgeous man whom you will probably marry, and all you're interested in is his business acumen?"

"Tiff, if-and it's a big if-Mr. Mulcahy and I decide to marry, it's just a business arrangement. We've both been the recipients of bequests that will screw us out of our inheritance unless we get married. I've got lousy luck picking men, and he's too busy to properly look for a wife. And time is running out on both of us."

"Marriage isn't a business," Tiffany said, not certain whether she should be shocked.

"Sure it is," Ashley told her.

"What about love?" Tiffany asked.

"What about it? Three times I thought I was in love. I obviously don't know what love is, and any man willing to marry to keep his money doesn't know either. Love will not be part of the equation here."

"Sex?" Tiffany said weakly.

"I've got all the sex I can handle on the Channel with Quinn and Rurik," Ashley said. "Tiff, this isn't happily ever after. It isn't personal. It's business. If he wants to have a girlfriend it's fine with me, as long as it's discreet."

"My God!" Tiffany said. "What have I done?"

Ashley laughed and patted Tiffany's hand. "You've probably saved me from a fate worse than death-poverty! Now, I've gotta go. Nina has a dental appointment at one fifteen, and I'll need to be in the shop. Brandy doesn't come in until after school."

Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo watched her go, and then walked back into the conference room, where her husband and his partner were just finishing their lunches. "This is terrible," she said, plunking herself into a chair.

"What's terrible?" Joe asked.

"Ashley said any arrangement made will be business, no sex, and he can have a girlfriend if he's discreet," Tiffany said.

Rick snickered.

"Good," Joe replied. "I'm glad Ashley understands, and doesn't have any silly romantic ideas in her head about Mulcahy."

Tiffany looked at her husband as if he had just returned from the moon.

"Is the guy hot?" Rick wanted to know with a grin.

"Yes, he's hot," Tiffany snapped. "Joseph Anthony Pietro d'Angelo, where has your heart gotten to, and don't you see how awful this will be for Ashley if she isn't loved by her husband? And what about kids?^What the hell good is all that money going to do either of them without kids to share it with or help out?"

Joe reached across the table, took his wife's hand, and kissed it. "My own little romantic," he said with a smile. "Listen, honey, Ashley and Mulcahy have a problem, and getting married will solve that problem for them. If they like each other, maybe something good will come of it. But for now it's just business. An arrangement like this can't be anything else but business."

"I think this is so sad. When I suggested it I wasn't considering the reality of it all," Tiffany responded with a deep sigh.

"What would be sad would be if these two hardworking people lost everything because some damned fools added dumb clauses to their wills in order to get their own way even after death," Rick remarked. "I don't know about Mulcahy's father, but why the hell Edward Kimbrough thought Ashley couldn't survive without a big, strong man to keep her safe I'll never know. She is one competent girl."

"Yeah," Joe agreed.

Tiffany got up from the conference table and looked at both of them with a jaundiced eye. "Well," she said, "at least you guys understand that women are capable of managing alone if we have to or choose to, or whatever. Now I've got to think about what I'm going to wear tomorrow."

The two men laughed as she left them.

When she had gone Rick Johnson looked at his partner. "Do you think they'll like each other?" he wondered.

"They have to," Joe said. "I don't see that either of them has a choice except to give up everything they've gotten or worked for, and that's just plain crazy."

The following morning the two partners stood in the conference room window looking down at the silver-gray limousine that had just pulled up in front of their building. Joe had already told Rick that his cousin had never learned to drive, and used a car service on a regular basis. Normally he would have arrived in a Town Car, but as his wife would also be with them he would want a bigger vehicle. The driver jumped out and ran around the car to open the door. Two men stepped out.

"That's Ray," Joe said, pointing to the shorter of the two men. "He's older than me by a couple of years. He was always good to me when I was a kid."

"That why you went into law?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, I guess it was. I've always admired him. He's a senior partner at ASK. When Joshua Alexander retired a couple of years ago he handpicked Ray for his place. But Alexander's name remains on the letterhead," Joe explained.

"Where's the limo going?" Rick asked. The two men had disappeared into the building, and it was pulling away from the curb.

"Out to the house. I made Tiffany stay home. I didn't want heR &Rose hovering while we were trying to make a deal. Where's Ashley? She should be here by now," Joe said as the intercom buzzed, announcing their two visitors, who were then ushered into the conference room.

"And Nina's here from Lacy Nothings," the receptionist said. "She needs to see you, Mr. P. Shall I send her in too?"

"Yeah," Joe told her. What the hell was going on? If Ashley was going to try to pull out of this he would no longer represent her. Hell! He'd represent SSEXL. "Ray!" he greeted his cousin, and the two men embraced warmly. "Sit down. You know my partner, Rick Johnson. Just give me a minute, will you?" He turned to Nina. "Where is she?" he asked.

"She's going to be late. Madeira called, and I don't speak Spanish," Nina said. "It shouldn't be any more than ten minutes." Then she turned and hurried out.

"Sorry about that," Joe said. "Ashley is going to be a few minutes late, and she sends her apologies. She had to take an overseas call. Could I offer everyone some coffee? Water?"

Judy, the firm's receptionist, stood waiting, and hurried out when she had been given orders for four coffees.

"Ryan," Ray Pietro d'Angelo said, "this is my cousin, Joe Pietro d'Angelo."

The men shook hands and chatted over the coffee that Judy had returned with for them. And then the intercom buzzed again, and Judy said, "Miss Kimbrough is here. I'm sending her in, sir."

The conference door opened and Ashley came in, breathless from running from her shop. She was wearing white silk slacks and a red tee. "I am so sorry," she apologized. "Did Nina tell you? Sister Marie Consuelo called from Madeira."

"She couldn't call back?" Joe asked.

"No, she couldn't," Ashley said. "There is no phone at the convent. I pay the tavern keeper in the village a yearly fee to allow her to call me when my order is ready and has been picked up by FedEx. They're a pretty cloistered order, Joe, and she can't keep running down the hill from the convent all the time. Then I have to have the bank transfer the funds I owe them immediately. The convent isn't a wealthy one with a rich patrona . I want to make certain they have their money by the next day, and in order to do that I have to call the bank before noon." She turned and looked at the men in the room. Then, walking over to Ryan Mulcahy, she held out her hand. "I'm Ashley Kimbrough, and since your companion looks like Joe, you must be Mr. Mulcahy."

He was dazzled by her bright green eyes. She wasn't at all what he had expected. Shaking her hand, he said, "My dad was Mr. Mulcahy. I'm Ryan, Miss Kimbrough."

"I'm Ashley," she responded, and then they sat down. If she hadn't sat down, Ashley thought, she would have fallen down. He was nothing at all like she had expected. The picture she had briefly glimpsed on Google didn't do him justice. For openers, no one had told her he would be six feet, five inches tall. Or that he would look like an Italian model. The brown eyes that had locked onto hers momentarily were like liquid chocolate beneath their dark, bushy eyebrows. His face was long, with a long, narrow, aquiline nose and high cheekbones. His mouth. Oh, God, his mouth! It was full and lush. It begged to be kissed. And then she pulled herself up. This was business, and she was already half in lust. This was what always got her in trouble. She drew a deep breath. "I suppose we should get started, gentlemen."

She was all business, and it really turned him on, Ryan thought as he inspected Ashley from beneath half-lowered eyelids. But it shouldn't turn him on, damn it! She was nothing at all like the kind of girl he wanted to marry. To begin with she was big. Not fat by any means, but big. She had to stand at least five feet, eight inches tall. She was a brunette with pale skin like ivory porcelain, not the petite peaches-and-cream blonde he had always imagined he would marry. But those green eyes! Mamma mia!

"Well, there's no secret why we are all here today," Joe began. "But let's put our cards on the table. Ashley Cordelia Kimbrough is her grandfather's only heir. The bulk of his estate is hers, but only if she marries by her thirty-fifth birthday, which is in December 2009. Unfortunately her business is part of the estate, and she will lose it if she cannot comply with the terms of Edward Kimbrough's will. She has made Lacy Nothings so successful that she could not afford to buy back her own business if she lost it, and there are at least two companies who have expressed interest in having it if she were interested in selling. They do not, of course, know Ashley's tenuous position. Ray?"

"Ryan Finbar Mulcahy has a similar problem. Although he made the business the financial success it is today, his father's will states that if he isn't married by the time he is forty-and that happens next spring-everything gets sold, and the proceeds parceled out to his sisters. His father was very generous in his will to those sisters, but they're already looking for a buyer for R &R. The value of the business is as much in Ryan's reputation as it is in the physical business itself. He could not outbid anyone else. Joe?"

"So," Joe said, "since both of these people have to marry to retain what is really theirs, it seems only logical that they marry each other. It would be a business arrangement with a prenuptial agreement signed by both parties. The marriage would have to last at least two years, and then each would leave the marriage with what they brought into it. In other words, no one gets hurt. But I think before we go any further we should hear from Ryan and Ashley." He turned to them. "What do you two think?"

"I think Ashley and I need to speak alone for a while," Ryan said.

"Yes, we need to get to know a little bit more about each other before we make any decisions," Ashley agreed. "Even if this isn't a real marriage in the strictest sense, Ryan and I have to see if we can be together without grating on each other's nerves."

"Good!" Joe said. "I've ordered lunch in for you two. We'll come together again at two thirty and see how it's gone and what you think." He stood up. "Ray, Rick, come on. I made reservations for the three of us at the inn." Joe walked out in the company of the other two men, closing the conference room door behind him.

"He's a decisive guy," Ryan remarked with a small smile. "A lot like Ray."

"I hadn't planned to be away from the shop for so long," Ashley said.

"What do you get from a convent in Madeira?" he asked her.

"Lace," she answered him. "Exquisite handmade lace. My first ex-fiancé found it for me when he and his partner were traveling in Europe."

"You're still friends with a guy you were once engaged to?" Ryan asked, surprised.

Ashley giggled. She couldn't help it. "Carson is gay," she told him. "I was young and didn't realize it, and he had asked me to marry him. He says he was in his 'I can beat this' stage of denial over his homosexuality. But he couldn't. He ran off with the best man a couple of days before the wedding. I thought it was so sweet that he wanted to wait until we were married to have sex." And she giggled again.

He grinned at her. In retrospect it was pretty funny, and she was certainly being a good sport about it. It said a lot about her character that she could laugh at herself. "I've heard you had a couple of other fiancés," he noted.

"Yep, number two was Chandler Wayne."

"The pro quarterback for the Chicago Razorbacks?" he asked.

"One and the same," she responded.

"Didn't he die in Vegas after… Oh, yeah. Great tragedy."

"If Chandler had to die young, and he did, he wouldn't have wanted to go any other way. The guy loved sex. I'm a little surprised at the circumstances, however. He wasn't the most creative guy in the sack," Ashley said.

"You're not a virgin," he said.

"I'm thirty-three," she answered him dryly. "How many thirty-three-year-old virgins do you know? But in answer to the unspoken question on your lips, I am not promiscuous. I have slept with only three guys in my thirty-three years, and two of them were going to marry me. The first was my college boyfriend. We did it twice, and then he broke up with me. I assume you've had a few adventures of your own, Ryan."

He laughed. "You are one candid lady, Ashley," he told her.

"You haven't answered my question," she said.

"Am I a virgin?" he teased her. "Nope."

Now Ashley laughed. "I think, to be fair, we should both have physicals if we decide to make this arrangement. Including tests for STDs. That okay with you?"

"Agreed," he said as the door to the conference room opened and their lunch was brought in.

The two waiters quickly set hot mats before them, covering them with linen place mats. Next came the silver, perfectly folded napkins, water, and wineglasses. Salads were set in front of them, and a small dressing boat was put on the table.

"Your entrées and the desserts are on the cart, Miss Kimbrough," one of the waiters said with a deferential bow. "I'll pour the wine, and then we'll be gone. Rick said you could serve yourselves."

"That's fine, Artie," Ashley said with a smile. "Thank you. The salad looks delicious, and you brought raspberry vinaigrette, my favorite." She poured a dollop on her salad.

While Artie poured them glasses of Pindar Winter White, the other waiter filled the water glasses. Then the two men hurried from the room.

"All the comforts of home," Ryan noted. "Your guys are pretty classy, considering you're country mice. Lunch in the boardroom."

"Usually it's yogurt, salad, or sandwiches," Ashley admitted as she ate the artfully arranged greens before her. "I generally eat at my desk. You?"

"Yeah, unless I have to take a client or a supplier to lunch. I try to keep those dates to a bare minimum. I don't eat breakfast except for coffee and juice. Lunch is a waste of time, and time is money."

"I eat three meals a day," Ashley said quietly. "I try to keep the carbs to the healthy kind. Good breakfast. Light lunch. Nice, but not too filling dinner."

"Do you cook?" he asked her.

"Actually I do, but not if I can avoid it. Mrs. B. cooks for me," Ashley told him. "If I had to cook after a long day at work I probably wouldn't eat, or eat all the wrong things. Having Mrs. B. to look after me is a great blessing."

"You have a cook?"

"I have a married couple, and a housemaid," Ashley told him. "When you came into town did you notice the large house on the hill overlooking the bay? That's my home, Kimbrough Hall. When you own a house like that you need help to keep everything running smoothly. The hall is on the National Registry of Historic Places in the state. I've lived there my whole life."

"Since you're your grandfather's only heir," he said, "I'm going to assume your parents are dead."

"They died in a boating accident when I was fourteen," Ashley told him. "They were totally in love to the exclusion of everyone else, including my brother and me. My father grew up at the hall, as my grandfather had. When he married, of course, my mother came to live there. They had two children, and then flitted off to enjoy themselves traveling the world. My brother and I were always getting marvelous gifts from their travels, and listening to them talk about their adventures on their rare visits home was really quite fascinating. Actually, my brother knew them better than I did. He was eight when they decided to go off on an extended holiday. I was just three."

"Who raised you then?" Ryan wanted to know. He was fascinated, and yet at the same time put off by the fact that she was so casual about a lifestyle that had left her virtually motherless. Would she, under the circumstances, have any maternal instincts herself?

"Well," Ashley said slowly, "Grams was around until I was eleven and Ben sixteen. After that it was usually Mrs. Byrnes who kept an eye on me."

"The cook?"

"Oh, no. The elder Mrs. Byrnes." Ashley laughed. "She was the housekeeper back when I was a kid. The Byrneses have been with the family for centuries. Grandfather always said they came with the house. My Mr. and Mrs. Byrnes are the elder Byrneses' son and daughter-in-law. But when they retire there'll be no more Byrneses at Kimbrough Hall. Their son is on Wall Street, and their daughter married a dentist. But Byrnes says he and his missus are good for at least fifteen more years." She chuckled. "I suspect they'll die in service, the way Byrnes's folks did. I just love them!"

Raised by servants. It just got worse, Ryan thought.

"Who brought you up?" Ashley asked him cheerfully, mopping the last of the salad dressing off her plate with a piece of roll.

"Our parents," he said.

"You've got siblings? I really miss my brother, Ben. He died in Desert Storm," she told him.

"I've got six sisters," he replied. "Bride is the oldest of us. She's fifty-three. Then comes Elisabetta, Kathleen, Magdalena, and Deirdre. There are four years between Dee and me. With five daughters my parents were reluctant to try again, but finally they did, and I was the result. They were so encouraged they did it one more time, but when my sister Francesca, Frankie, was born, they decided enough was enough."

"I can't help but notice your sisters' names. Irish and Italian," Ashley said.

"My mother's from Rome," he replied.

"That's why you don't look Irish despite your name!" Ashley exclaimed. "But you're very tall," she noted.

"My dad was tall," he told her. "That's the Irish part."

He had finished his salad, and he saw that Ashley was standing up and taking the covered plates off of the trolley. Removing the covers she set one plate before him and the other at her place. The plates contained four perfectly cooked raviolis with a light meat sauce sprinkled with freshly sliced mushrooms. Next to the pasta was a spoonful of thinly sliced pale green zucchini.

"Artie's Ristorante uses fresh local veggies. These must be the first zucchini of the season," Ashley said as she dug enthusiastically into the food on her plate.

As he ate he watched her eat. Other than his family he was used to women who picked at the food on their plates, but hardly ate a morsel. Ashley was obviously not one of those women. She was actually enjoying her food.

"I'll bet your mom makes great pasta," she said between bites.

"She does," he said with a smile, "but I have to admit Artie's pasta ain't bad at all. The sauce could use a bit more basil, but it's good."

When they had finished the pasta Ashley took their plates and returned them to the trolley. She came back with plates containing small meringue shells filled with fresh strawberries and drizzled with dark chocolate. "If you want coffee I can ask Judy," she said, "but frankly I'm enjoying the wine."

"Wine is good," he agreed.

"So," Ashley asked him as she ate her dessert, "do you have any bad habits? I'm not too good at tolerating fools. I'm a bit impatient. I tend to get sentimental over crazy things no one else would get sentimental over. I love animals. I've got two rescued greyhounds, Ghostly and Graybar. A very fat tortoiseshell tabby named Mr. Mittens. I feed the deer in the winter even though it appalls my neighbors. How about you?"

"I don't know," he said, considering. "My mother and little sister think I'm perfect. The five harpies who are my older sisters think I'm selfish because, now that they've all pissed through what Dad left them, I won't finance their extravagances. I've got other responsibilities, and they've all got husbands."

"Believe me, I understand," Ashley said. "People think if you're rich you can do anything. But you've got employees, and all the expenses that go with having employees. I've always paid my people what they're worth, matched funds for their retirement, paid their Social Security, and I even have a health care plan in place. I pay half and my employees pay half. Of course, even with the new stores opening I probably don't have as many employees as you do. But if people work hard they're entitled to earn a decent living and have all that goes with it. And many of your people are craftsmen and artisans, aren't they?"

"Exactly!" he said. Okay, so she was big and tall. She ate like a horse. She had been brought up by the help, and probably didn't have a maternal bone in her body, but she sure as hell understood business and how it should be run. She had ethics, and ethics were important to him. A marriage between them was going to be strictly business. If something else came of it, okay, fine. But at least if they married neither of them would lose everything they had worked so hard for over the past few years. They had to marry. "We've got a lot of people depending on us, Ashley, don't we?" he said seriously. "I'm told I'm not a bad guy, and I love animals too, although I don't have any. I'm not able to take care of them. Will it bother you that I travel a lot? I'm always looking for exotic woods, good hardware sources, that kind of stuff. Sometimes I'll go and oversee the packing of a client's antique for shipping to my shop for restoration."

"If we could live at Kimbrough Hall I wouldn't mind," Ashley told him. "The Byrneses are there, my creatures are there. I know how to be a good hostess, so if you wanted to entertain there we certainly could. My grandfather used to give the most marvelous parties when I was growing up."

"I could make Egret Pointe my legal residence," he said thoughtfully, "but I will want to keep my apartment in the city, because I'll have to stay in town three or four nights a week. This wouldn't be an easy commute."

"No, of course not," she agreed. "Now, we had better get the sex thing straightened out before we go any further."

"It's a marriage of convenience," he said. "If we get interested, fine. If we don't, no problem. But I want absolutely no gossip or scandal because you're sleeping with someone else. I assume you know how to be more than just discreet. And you'll have no problem with me that way, I assure you."

"Have you got a girlfriend?" she asked, curious, but then, even if he did he wasn't serious, or he most certainly wouldn't be considering a marriage of convenience.

"I don't have time for anything other than an occasional casual relationship," he told her. "I would have thought you'd figured that one out."

"I did, but I had to ask." Ashley swallowed hard. "And now here's another question I have to ask. Are you gay or bisexual? I don't want any surprises, Ryan."

"Good point," he said. "Nope. Straight as an arrow. Maybe we'll get to find out together someday, Ashley." He locked his gaze on her, and felt a small burst of satisfaction when she actually blushed.

"This is business, remember," she said primly.

"I know. The business of saving our asses. But we are going to have to sleep together in the same bed to prevent any rumors," he told her.

"My servants don't gossip," she said, irritated.

"All servants gossip, and these people have watched you grow up. They probably love you and want nothing but the best for you. You aren't going to tell them the truth of this proposed marriage, are you? What the hell do you think they would think of you under such circumstances, even if they said nothing? And I can see that you care for your Byrneses so you probably won't tell them what this is all about. That means we will have to share a bed, Ashley, on the nights I am out here. Am I wrong?" The brown eyes looked directly into her bright green ones.

"It's complicated," Ashley said. "But of course I'll tell the Byrneses the truth. I have too much respect for them not to tell them. They understand my situation."

"My sisters could cause trouble," he said, "although my mom and Frankie are on our side."

"Why? Oh, yeah, you mean your older sisters." Ashley groaned.

He laughed. "Yep, the harpies, but actually it's my mother who suggested to Ray that he find me a nice wife. You see, she and Dad were an arranged marriage."

"Oh," Ashley replied. Great! Just great! He had a mother who had had an arranged marriage, and it was a happy marriage. And seven kids to boot. She would probably blame Ashley when she and Ryan divorced a few years down the line. Hell, Carson's mother blamed her because he was gay. Mothers and sons were a force of nature not to be reckoned with.

"Just oh?" Ryan said, curious.

"I don't know what else to say," Ashley admitted. "I thought arranged marriages went out a couple of hundred years ago, except maybe for third-world countries. How come an arranged marriage? I mean, you're a reasonably good-looking guy, so your parents have to be good-looking. It was the twentieth century. Couldn't they find each other another way? It seems so odd, but then, hell, this is odd, isn't it?"

"I liked it better when we were talking about sex," he teased.

"I don't remember us talking about sex," Ashley responded, feeling her cheeks grow warm again. It had been years since she had blushed, and now twice in the last few minutes he had managed to make her blush.

"The bed situation," he reminded her. "Have you got a king-size bed? I'm a big guy, and can only sleep in a king-size extralong."

"I've got a double bed," she said. And it's just big enough for me, she thought.

"Gotta order a king, extralong," he told her.

"We'll have to move into Grandfather's old rooms," Ashley said, thinking. "I'm like Goldilocks-my rooms are just right. For me. I hope you're not going to be more trouble than you're worth. Are you, Ryan?" Her eyes were twinkling.

He picked up the last strawberry from his meringue shell, popping it into his mouth. His tongue licked a drop of chocolate from the side of his lips. "Then we're doing this?" he asked her.

Seeing the tip of his tongue lapping at the chocolate had momentarily rendered her dizzy, but she still managed to speak. "I guess. You check out. You're not an ax murderer. You seem a reasonable man. Yeah, I guess we are doing it."

"It?" Ryan couldn't help leering at her. Bringing a blush to her pale cheeks was proving to be a lot of fun. He suspected from her consternation that it had been a long time since anyone had made her blush.

"Damn it, you're doing that deliberately!" she swore at him.

He burst out laughing. "Guilty as charged," he admitted. "I see you have a little bit of a temper too. I like my gals with spice," he drawled in his best Texas accent.

"And you seem to be a tease, Mr. Mulcahy," she shot back. "Okay. Yes. We will get married to preserve our fortunes and our livelihoods. It would seem that neither of us has any other choice, except to transfer our funds to numbered accounts in the Caymans, take on new identities, and run. And I've never run from anything in all my life!"

"Neither have I," he said, serious now. "How do we explain our marriage to everyone? It's going to seem really strange if we just do it without warning."

"I suppose we could date for a little while," Ashley suggested. "I could get to know your family. I have no real family left, but you could get to know my friends. But I don't want to have to plan another extravaganza, Ryan. When we set the date I want it to be simple. No fuss. No muss. Your mom. My friend Nina. That's it. I realize your family will probably want a big show, but I have ended up the Bad-luck Bride three times now. I'm pretty certain that the florist here in the village has put one kid through college on my three canceled weddings."

"But it has to be in church," he said. "Ma will insist on that."

"No problem. You're an R.C., I presume?"

"Baptized, confirmed, but I'm not much on church," he admitted.

" I'm an Anglican," she told him. " But I want your mother happy in this, because I can see she means a lot to you. St. Anne's is the Roman church. St. Luke's is the Anglican. We'll get married at St. Anne's. They've got a new priest, Father Donovan. He's a pretty cool guy. And my priest, Father Edwards, will co-officiate. That okay with you, Ryan?"

"You want to set the date now?" he asked her. "No one except the lawyers has to know we're going to be pretending to date."

"How about the last Saturday in August?" Ashley asked.

"That's good. I don't travel in August," he agreed.

"How are we going to say we met?" she asked him.

"No lie there," he said. "Our lawyers are cousins, and they introduced us."

She nodded. "Yes, it's the truth, isn't it?"

The door to the conference room opened, and the partners in the company of Ray Pietro d'Angelo came back in.

"Lunch was okay?" Joe asked.

"It was lovely," Ashley said. "Whoever chose the menu did a good job."

"Have you decided what you want to do?" Ray inquired of them.

Ashley looked at Ryan questioningly.

"You explain it," Ryan said.

"Ryan and I thought it might be better if a relationship between us seemed normal. We're going to have a whirlwind courtship," she said with a smile. "We will tell everyone that we were introduced by our lawyers, who are cousins-which is, of course, the truth, isn't it? And I think sticking to the truth is best. We will date for a few weeks, then surprise everyone by getting married. Ryan has agreed to make his legal residence here in Egret Pointe. We'll be married at St. Anne's, because it will please his mother."

"No," Ray said. "No church wedding."

"Why not?" Ryan wanted to know.

"Because this marriage isn't going to be a long-term thing. It's just to save your asses," Ray said. "One day you could find the love of your life, and you'll want to be married in the church. You can't if you've already been married in the church and then divorced. For this marriage we'll want a local judge. I want it to be legal in this state, especially because otherwise your sisters are going to raise hell when they see all that money Jerry Klein has promised them going bye-bye. They may even threaten legal action, although they won't have a leg to stand on. All your dad said was, married by forty. He didn't specify how or to whom or even how long. Now, how long is this union going to last for you two? I'd suggest a two-year minimum."

"That sounds fine to me," Ryan said. He looked to Ashley. "You?"

She nodded. "Yes, that seems right."

"Okay," Joe said. "We don't need you two now. We'll work out all the details. When we've got a working draft of the prenup we'll have you each look at a copy, make corrections, do a final draft, and you'll sign it. So when's the wedding?"

"August twenty-fifth," Ashley said. "And it will be extremely low-key."

"What?" Joe teased. "No twelve-piece orchestra? No thousands of dollars' worth of flowers? No catered feast? The hospital thrift shop is going to be very disappointed."

"None of the above," Ashley said. "If we can't do it in church then we'll do it up at the hall. You, Rick, Ray, and your wives. Nina. The Byrneses. Joe's mom and favorite sister. A nice sit-down dinner in the dining room afterward. The flowers will come from the gardens, and if you want to dance afterward we'll put a CD on. After all, it's a sudden wedding after a whirlwind courtship, gentlemen."

"Sounds good to me," Ray said. He turned to his client. "The limo will take you back into the city, Ryan. It was a good meeting, yes?"

Ryan nodded. "Thanks for solving the problem," he said.

"Would you have time to see Kimbrough Hall?" Ashley asked him.

"Why not? It's Friday, and I don't have to do the driving. Yes, I would very much like to see Kimbrough Hall. I never knew anyone who lived in a hall."

"We'll call it our first date then," Ashley said with a small smile. She turned to the partners. "Thanks, guys. And Joe, call Tiff. If you wait until you get home there will be no living with her." She turned to Ryan. "We'll tell the driver to follow me," she said. "That way you won't have to drop me back in town later." She led him from the boardroom and from the law offices of Johnson and Pietro d'Angelo.

Ryan went over to the limo and gave the driver his instructions. Ashley waved him over to her Solstice. He eyed the hot little car and climbed in on the passenger side. Ashley gunned the vehicle and they were off, heading back the way he had come, except when they came to a turn in the road she swung the car onto a narrow paved road. She moved so fast that he almost missed the stone pillars, and just barely caught a glimpse of two brass-and-bronze markers affixed to them. The trees thinned as they reached the top of the hill where the house sat. The view of the bay was spectacular.

The house was beautiful: brick with white trim, gracious and welcoming, with a portico of elegant white pillars in front. He could see the colorful gardens behind and around the house. Two greyhounds loped up to the car as it pulled to a stop. He felt as if he were in a 1940s movie. He hadn't thought houses like this existed anymore. All this land, and it was obviously hers. I wouldn't want to lose it either, he thought.

"Welcome to Kimbrough Hall," Ashley said as she stepped from the car, giving the dogs a pat. "I hope you'll like it here, Ryan. I realize it is very different from the city. Is your apartment big?"

"No," he said, getting out and letting the dogs sniff him. "I have a one-bedroom in a prewar. Three apartments to a floor. I've got the C apartment with a view of the backs of other buildings. I don't need a view, as I'm there only at night and first thing in the morning when I get up. This place… it's incredible. And you grew up here? Wow!"

Ashley smiled. She was pleased that he liked it. "I couldn't live anywhere else."

She led him inside as Byrnes opened the door as if he had been waiting for her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ashley, sir," the butler said.

"Afternoon, Byrnes. This is Mr. Mulcahy. Would Mrs. B. bring us some iced tea out to the porch?"

"At once, Miss Ashley," was the polite reply.

She led Ryan through the house, and he couldn't stop turning his head as he spotted valuable antique after valuable antique. The house was pristine, and everything belonged. It looked like a perfectly dressed movie set. He was fascinated by it all. The porch on the side of the house was filled with wicker furniture, the chair cushions done in a green-on-white fabric. "Sit," Ashley invited him.

"How big is this place?" he asked her.

"This floor, kitchens, pantry, living room, dining room, library, the ballroom, although it hasn't been used in years, and a small office. Second floor is bedrooms, bathrooms, a nursery wing. There's a wing over the kitchens for Mr. and Mrs. B. Attics above everything else. They used to be servants' quarters in the glory days of the house, along with storage. Three-car garage, but we use only two bays-one for my car, the other for the Byrneses car. The housemaid who cleans lives in town, as does the gardener."

"Big house for just one girl," he noted.

"I know," Ashley said, "but it's home, Ryan, and maybe one day I'll find the right man to share it with, and have lots of kids."

"You want kids?"

"Oh, yes! It was such fun growing up with Ben, even if I was a lot younger than he was. He was a terrific big brother."

Ryan saw tears well up in her eyes, but said nothing.

The butler brought in a small silver tray with two glasses of iced tea, and set the tray down. "Will you require any thing else, Miss Ashley? If not I'll want to go to the garden and pick some peas for dinner."

"No, this is lovely, Byrnes. Thank you," Ashley said, and the butler withdrew.

"You have a garden?" He was surprised. With the supermarkets offering such a variety of foods today, he was fascinated that there was some sort of garden here growing vegetables along with the beautiful flowers.

"Byrnes and Tony, our gardener, love doing a vegetable garden every year," Ashley told him. "Who am I to refuse fresh veggies?" She smiled. Then she surprised him. "Would you like to come out next weekend? I suppose we really ought to start being seen around Egret Pointe."

He thought a moment, and then answered, "Yes, I would. If I'm going to be living here I ought to get to know the village."

"Bring a bathing suit. I have a pool, and it's heated," Ashley said.

He was surprised, but why he was surprised he didn't know. She was obviously old money. Not the kind you heard about in the society columns- real old money. The old-fashioned kind that showed up only in wedding and death announcements. "I will indeed bring a suit. I love to swim," he said. Then he stood up. "I had better be going. I usually have Friday-night dinner at my mom's, and I don't want to be late. She'll want to know why, and I'm not certain I'm ready to tell her."

"Why not?" Ashley said. "After all, according to Ray it was her idea that you have an arranged marriage to save your inheritance. I think you would want to tell her right away so she would stop worrying," Ashley told him.

"You wouldn't mind? She might even end up calling you," he warned her.

"That would be lovely. Intimidating, but lovely," she said, and stood up. "I'll go with you to the door, and then I'm off back to the shop. It's only a little after three, and I've got a lot to do. June is always a busy month, with weddings and anniversaries."

The limo was waiting for him outside the house. They smiled and shook hands, and then, getting in, he settled back for the ride into the city. It had probably been the most interesting day of his life, Ryan Finbar Mulcahy thought.

Ashley watched the car disappear down the drive. The day had seemed like a dream, and yet it was reality. In a few short weeks she was going to marry a stranger. And this groom wasn't gay, or a con artist, or going to die in Vegas from too much sex. They had a similar problem, and united in matrimony they would solve that problem. And the wedding would take place. Suddenly she was afraid, but then she forced back her fears. He was handsome, well-spoken, and the only agenda he had was to hold on to his money. It was her agenda too, wasn't it?