"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."