Finding Bailey: A Lake Tahoe Romantic Suspense Novel

by Dana Mason

  She pulled away and tried to break free from his hand, but he held it to his chest until she made eye contact with him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, staring at her in a way that made her want to cry again.

  “Fine.” She sniffled, wiping her face with her free hand. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get out of here before the neighbors think we’re casing the place.”

  They returned to Lucy’s and talked for another hour before leaving. Bailey tried not to let Ryan know how discouraged she felt. The more digging they did, the more she felt like giving up. He’d worked so hard to research everything for her, and she just wanted to block the entire trip from her memory.

  When they stepped into the hotel room, Ryan pulled out his notepad and started writing. Bailey couldn’t sit still. She folded Ryan’s clothes, then lined up their shoes in the bottom of the closet. When that was in order, she pulled out the ironing board and started to iron one of Ryan’s shirts.

  “Stop cleaning my stuff,” he said, without looking up from his notes.

  “I’m just going to iron this so you can wear it tomorrow. I don’t know how you can stand to wear wrinkled clothes.”

  “Stop. Put your OCD on vacation.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides and exhaled in frustration. “What are you writing anyway?”

  “Notes from our meetings today.”

  “What else?” she asked, walking toward him.

  He slapped the cover closed and stuck the notepad back in his breast pocket. “Nothing.”

  “I want to see.”

  “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

  Bailey reached for his pocket, but he blocked it. Her eyebrows rose, and she gave him a challenging smile.

  “You’ll lose. I’m stronger and faster.”

  “But you’d never hit a girl.” She tried to duck her hand under his to get inside his pocket, but he swatted it away.

  “I don’t have to hit you. Just pin you down, you silly girl.” He was smiling now, too, as he stood to move away from her.

  “Silly girl? I can’t believe you said that.” She pushed his shoulders, sending him backward. He regained his footing and grabbed her wrists, walking her back against the wall.

  He smiled so wide, his entire face lit up, and his eyes twinkled mischievously. It took Bailey’s breath away. She hadn’t seen that smile in weeks—since before her mother’s death.

  “Yes, you silly girl,” he said again.

  “Ow, Ryan.”

  He released her quickly. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  She laughed, grabbing the notepad from his pocket. “Sucker!”

  “You’re a little cheater.” He swatted her hand, sending the notepad flying across the room. Then he grabbed her wrists again and pinned her to the wall. “Now whadda ya got?”

  Butterflies fluttered in Bailey’s stomach. She stared into his playful eyes for a second, then leaned into him, taking his mouth with hers. She pressed herself against him until he released her. His hands went into her hair, making fists, and she gripped his shirt so he couldn’t pull away.

  Bailey licked into his mouth, wanting more, feeling hotter by the second. God, she wanted him. Where had these feelings come from? One day, they were best friends, and the next, she couldn’t keep her hands off him.

  She released her grip on his shirt and tugged at the buttons, fighting to get to his bare skin. When she got the shirt open, she explored the planes of his chest and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  Ryan gripped the hem of her dress and lifted it, cupping her rear and nearly lifting her off her feet, pulling her closer. The feel of his bare hands sent a sense of urgency through her, but to her surprise, he released her and pressed his hands flat against the wall behind her. With her face pressed into his collarbone, he rested his chin on her head. A moment later, he let out an earth-shattering sigh that hurt Bailey from the inside out.

  “Why are you stopping?” she whispered. She could feel every muscle in his body tense and twitch as he leaned against her.

  “Bailey…”

  She kept her arms around him and held on. “Isn’t this what you want, Ryan?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not what you want.”

  “I don’t want to pressure you if you don’t want me.” She tried to sound reasonable, but she wasn’t sure he couldn’t hear the plea in her voice.

  He cupped her face with his hand, bringing her mouth to his. Bailey lost all thoughts, her mind short-circuiting into fuzziness. He ground against her, and she felt the length of his erection.

  He withdrew from the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really think you’re pressuring me?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bailey would have laughed if she wasn’t completely desperate to get his lips back on hers. “If this is what you want, why are you stopping?”

  Ryan leaned down into her. She grabbed a handful of his hair and gripped it to keep him from pulling away again. This kiss was harder and more playful. When he nipped at her bottom lip, a moan escaped from her throat.

  His hands cupped her rear again, lifting her off her feet this time. Bailey hopped up and straddled his hips as her arms and legs circled him. This was definitely what she wanted. She didn’t care about the morning, nor did she care about friendship. She wanted him to help her forget her name, and her past, and everything she’d heard today. She just wanted him to touch her and embrace the beauty of how good they felt in each other’s arms.

  Ryan carried her to the bed and laid her down. She didn’t let go, pulling him down with her.

  “Bailey…”

  “God damn it, Ryan, if you make me stop, I’m going to kill you.” She huffed, exasperated, tugging at the button on his jeans.

  “Bailey, if I wake up to you crying in the morning, I’m going to kill you.”

  She stopped and stared into his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been mad at me?”

  “I haven’t been mad at you.”

  “But you have.” She nearly shouted it. “You won’t talk to me about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about? You said you never wanted to do it again, yet you attack me and threaten to kill me if I stop. Do you think this is a game to me?”

  “It’s not a game to me, either.” She pushed at his chest and scooted up on the bed.

  “I know that, babe, but we can’t erase what’s already happened. I promised you nothing would change between us. I don’t know what else there is to talk about.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “You never told me how you felt. I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking. You only want things to be like they were before. What difference do my feelings make as long as nothing between us changes? Fucking shit, Bailey.”

  She shoved his shoulder to push him away. “Don’t do that.”

  He frowned and leaned into her, forcing her to lean back. “I don’t know what the hell you want from me.”

  Before she could say anything else, he was slamming the door closed behind him. She couldn’t believe it. She stared at the closed door, not sure what to do.

  “You son-of-a-bitch.”

  What the hell had gone wrong? All she wanted was to know how he felt. She flung herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Why was he so difficult? If he wanted her, he would just say it, right? God, she was so confused, and she didn’t even have anyone to talk to because her best friend had just stormed out.

  The door opened, and Bailey jumped. Ryan rushed inside, walked to the corner of the room, picked up his notepad, stuffed it into his pocket, and walked back out without looking at her.

  “Ryan!”

  He didn’t even glance at her before he slammed the door behind him again.

  “Fine, you jerk.” She went into the bathroom, fixed her hair, and freshened her makeup, then put on the nicest—and best fitting—dress she’d brought with her.

  When she enter
ed the bar, Ryan was in the corner, writing in his little notepad. The place was busier than the night before. Most of the people were in suits. The hotel must have been hosting a conference or something.

  She decided that if Ryan looked up at her, she would walk over there. If he didn’t, she’d sit at the bar and leave him be. After another thirty seconds, he still hadn’t glanced up, so she picked a stool at the end of the bar and ordered a margarita with a shot of tequila on the side.

  The business suits were a bit rowdier than she would have expected. She sipped on her margarita for a few minutes, trying not to watch Ryan. He was so engrossed in what he was writing, Bailey almost felt jealous. She could see him eyeing the piano, itching to play.

  She knocked back the shot, and warmth rushed to her skin. The high she’d gained making out with Ryan had turned into frustration, but now it was fading, and she slowly started to relax.

  When the bartender put down another shot, she started to protest.

  “The guy at the end sent it over. Do you want it?”

  She instinctively looked at Ryan, who was now engrossed in a conversation with a tall, blonde woman. Bailey looked at the bartender, confused, and he pointed to a man a few seats from Ryan, smiling at her. She stole another look at Ryan; he wasn’t paying any attention to her.

  Bailey nodded at the man and accepted the drink, smiling her thanks. At least someone had noticed her.

  Bailey sipped on the margarita and contemplated her next move. She didn’t know where to go from there. Her life was a disaster. Mom was gone, the only relative who seemed to have answers was freaking touring the country, aka hiding from her, and after everything Aunt Lucy had told her, she totally understood why her parents had moved away. Who would want to raise a family with an entire town judging every decision? People claimed not to be judgmental, but the fact was, most couldn’t help it.

  Her mother couldn’t have a child, which was news to her. Bailey had no idea, but it explained why she’d fought so hard to adopt her. Bailey had always wanted brothers and sisters. She assumed she didn’t get them because of her father’s health, not her mother’s. She had always wanted a big family, big Christmas trees, and lots of noisy kids running through the house. Her insides ached at the thought. As much as she wanted it as a child, as an adult, she longed for it: a husband who worshiped her, kids to play with, mornings full of chaos and noise.

  Someone took the stool next to her while the bartender put down another shot of tequila and another margarita. Bailey looked up quickly to see the man from the other end of the bar sitting next to her.

  “Hello.” He held up his drink in a toast.

  Bailey briefly felt like her privacy had been invaded. Although, she knew it had more to do with what she was thinking when he sat down next to her and less to do with the fact that he sat down next to her.

  “Hi,” she said, looking over to see Ryan still deep in conversation with the blonde.

  “Are you here for the conference?”

  “No, I’m actually in town on family business. What kind of conference is it?”

  “Library Association. It’s the ProLiteracy conference.”

  “Oh, interesting.” Considering the suits, she’d expected big business.

  “I’m John,” he said, holding his hand out to shake hers.

  “Bailey,” she returned, wishing he’d just go away.

  “What do you do, Bailey?”

  She chuckled. “Nothing as noble as trying to bring down the adult illiteracy rate. I’m a small business owner. I own a boutique in South Lake Tahoe, California.”

  “Someone has to sell souvenirs to the tourists. Lake Tahoe is a beautiful place. You must love it there.”

  Bailey tried not the take his sell souvenirs to tourists crack personally. “I do love it there. I can’t wait to get home.”

  She heard the familiar chords of one of her favorite songs bellow from the jukebox and fought a smile. It was James Morrison’s “One Last Chance.” Seconds later, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Ryan standing over her.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Her head fell back on her shoulders, and she laughed quietly. “Sure.” She looked at the man next to her. “Excuse me.”

  Ryan took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

  “I have no rhythm, and you know that.”

  “The beauty of being a girl is that you only have to follow my lead, and I promise not to lead you astray.”

  “I don’t think this is a dancing type of bar,” she said, looking around.

  He turned and faced her, placing his hands around her waist and pulling her closer. “I’m sorry for storming out on you.” His breath brushed her ear and caused a chill to run the length of her spine.

  “I’m sorry…I…tried to take your notebook?” She finished on a high note, not sure what else to say.

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”

  She chuckled. “I’m sorry I threatened to kill you.”

  He pursed his lips and pulled her close again. “Better.” Then he whispered, “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “I’m sorry I keep confusing you with my mixed signals.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t let you see what was inside my notebook.”

  “Uh.” She thought for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish what we started.”

  He pulled back again and lifted one eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yeah, there’s nothing worse than sexual frustration. You’ve forced me to make boring conversation with a snobby librarian.”

  He laughed breathily in her ear. “Ditto.”

  “Ditto what? You’re sorry we didn’t get all our clothes off, or ditto you were talking to a snobby librarian, too?”

  He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

  “You guess? So, in other words, you could take it or leave it.”

  “In other words, I don’t have the words to express how I feel about not getting you naked.”

  Bailey nodded. “Is that why you haven’t talked to me? You don’t know what to say?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “That’s so unlike you, Ryan Walker. It must be very frustrating.”

  “Almost as frustrating as not getting naked with you.”

  She laughed. “You’re usually so eloquent, so good at expressing yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, my linguistics coach passed away recently, and I haven’t been quite right since.”

  The song ended, and Bailey stopped moving. Ryan didn’t release her. “There’s another. Just stay put.”

  Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine” started playing. Bailey relaxed again in his arms. “Never send me to the jukebox again. You’re so much better at picking songs,” she said.

  “It’s the country music. It clouds the brain.”

  “I’m sorry I keep forgetting you lost her, too.”

  “She was always there,” he said.

  “I know.” Bailey rested her head on his chest. “We can’t let everything fall apart now that she’s gone.” Bailey noticed her companion had left his barstool and was now sitting with the blonde Ryan had abandoned.

  “Bay, I think I should move out of the house.”

  She stopped moving and met his eyes. That was the last thing she had expected and the last thing she wanted. “Why?”

  “It’s just not going to work.”

  She released him and went back to her barstool. Her shot was gone, and she wondered if the librarian decided to drink it himself.

  She sipped her margarita and tried not to look over at Ryan as he sat down.

  “I can move back into the house with Lucas and Wade.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You can stay in the house. I’ll stay in my apartment.”

  He ordered himself a beer and another shot for her. “I can’t do that. You should live there.”

  “You wanted to be close to your dad. You want M
om’s music room so bad, you can taste it. I couldn’t take that away from you.”

  “It’s your house. I’m not— Will you look at me?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. What made him think she wanted to live alone in her mother’s house? “No, I can’t live there alone. I’m not ready for that. I was only moving in because you were there.”

  “Bailey…”

  “Stop arguing with me. I’m happy in my apartment, anyway. It would never have worked.” Now she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle him bringing a woman home, and she knew that was mutual.

  After a long moment of silence, he said, “Bailey…”

  She felt his eyes on her, but he didn’t say another word until she looked up at him.

  His expression was intense and resolute. “There is nothing else to talk about, so stop pressuring me.”

  “Ryan, I just want to know how you feel…how you felt that morning on the boat.”

  “No, that’s not true. That’s not all you want.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You want nothing to change between us, and I’m fighting with everything I have to keep my promise, even though every touch makes it harder and harder.” He sighed, his eyes intense on hers. “You can’t have it both ways.”

  Bailey lowered her eyes to her drink. He was right. Damn it. He was right, and she was a needy bundle of dysfunction. But she couldn’t ignore the underlying message he was sending. He wanted her. God, she’d been nothing but a prick tease. How could she not realize? “I understand, and I’m sorry.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bailey got a call from her cousin Anna telling her Patrick had sent another postcard. She invited Bailey and Ryan over for breakfast the following morning. She had some things for Bailey, and she offered to let them see all the postcards sent from Patrick.

  Bailey sat at Anna’s kitchen table, staring at photos of her father as a child. She didn’t have as many memories of him as she had of her mother, so the pictures were a precious gift to her. She missed him so much.

  Bailey and Ryan had arrived at Anna’s and were greeted by her husband, Stephen. He was charming and considerate. Bailey couldn’t ignore how much he doted on Anna. She tried not to feel envious of their clear attachment.