by Nora Roberts
when I let him go.”
Ryan smothered a laugh. “No, I imagine he wasn’t.”
“A small wager,” Pierce added. “He lost.”
“Then instead of paying off,” Ryan concluded, “he tossed you in jail.”
“Something like that.”
“A desperate criminal.” Ryan heaved a sigh. “I suppose I’m at your mercy.” Setting down her glass, she went to him. “It was very sweet of you to do this for me. Thank you.”
Pierce brushed back her hair. “Such a serious face,” he murmured and kissed her eyes shut. He thought of the hurt he had seen in them when she had read her father’s letter. “Aren’t you going to open the present from your father, Ryan?”
She shook her head, then laid her cheek on his shoulder. “No, not tonight. Tomorrow. I’ve been given the presents that matter already.”
“He didn’t forget you, Ryan.”
“No, he wouldn’t forget. It would be marked on his calendar. Oh, I’m sorry.” She shook her head again, drawing away. “That was petty. I’ve always wanted too much. He does love me—in his own way.”
Pierce took her hands in his. “He only knows his own way.”
Ryan looked back up at him. Her frown cleared into an expression of understanding. “Yes, you’re right. I’ve never thought about it that way. I keep struggling to please him so he’ll turn to me one day and say, ‘Ryan, I love you. I’m proud to be your father.’ It’s silly.” She sighed. “I’m a grown woman, but I keep waiting.”
“We don’t ever stop wanting that from our parents.” Pierce drew her close again.
Ryan thought of his childhood while he wondered about hers.
“We’d be different people, wouldn’t we, if our parents had acted differently?”
“Yes,” he answered. “We would.”
Ryan tilted her head back. “I wouldn’t want you to be any different, Pierce. You’re exactly what I want.” Hungrily, she pressed her mouth to his. “Take me to bed,” she whispered. “Tell me what you were thinking all those hours ago before we were interrupted.”
Pierce swept her up, and she clung, delighting in the strength of his arms. “Actually,” he began, crossing to the bedroom, “I was wondering what you had on under that dress.”
Ryan laughed and pressed her mouth to his throat. “Well, there’s hardly anything there to wonder about at all.”
***
The bedroom was dark and quiet as Ryan lay curled up at Pierce’s side. His fingers played absently with her hair. He thought she was sleeping; she was very still. He didn’t mind his own wakefulness. It allowed him to enjoy the feel of her skin against his, the silken texture of her hair. While she slept, he could touch her without arousing her, only to comfort himself that she was there. He didn’t like knowing she wouldn’t be in his bed the following night.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmured and startled him.
“About you.” He drew her closer. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“No.” He felt the brush of her lashes on his shoulder as she opened her eyes. “I was thinking about you.” Lifting her finger, she traced it along his jawline. “Where did you get this scar?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Ryan realized she’d unwittingly probed into his past. “I suppose it was in a battle with a sorceress,” she said lightly, wishing she could take the question back.
“Not quite so romantic. I fell down some stairs when I was a kid.”
She held her breath a moment. She hadn’t expected him to volunteer anything on his past, even so small a detail. Shifting, she rested her head on his chest. “I tripped over a stool once and loosened a tooth. My father was furious when he found out. I was terrified it would fall out and he’d disown me.”
“Did he frighten you so much?”
“His disapproval, yes. I suppose it was foolish.”
“No.” Staring up at the dark ceiling, Pierce continued to stroke her hair. “We’re all afraid of something.”
“Even you?” she asked with a half-laugh. “I don’t believe you’re afraid of anything.”
“Of not being able to get out once I’m in,” he murmured.
Surprised, Ryan looked up and caught the gleam of his eyes in the darkness. “Do you mean in one of your escapes?”
“What?” He brought his thoughts back to her. He hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud.
“Why do you do the escapes if you feel that way?”
“Do you think that if you ignore a fear it goes away?” he asked her. “When I was small,” he said calmly, “it was a closet, and I couldn’t get out. Now it’s a steamer trunk or a vault, and I can escape.”
“Oh, Pierce.” Ryan turned her face into his chest. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”
But he was compelled to. For the first time since his childhood, Pierce heard himself speak of it. “Do you know, I think that the memory of scent stays with you longer than anything else. I could always remember the scent of my father so clearly. It wasn’t until ten years after I last saw him that I learned what it was. He smelled of gin. I couldn’t have told you what he looked like, but I remembered that smell.”
He continued to stare up at the ceiling as he spoke. Ryan knew he had forgotten her as he went back into his own past. “One night when I was about fifteen, I was down in the cellar. I used to like to explore down there when everyone was in bed. I came across the janitor passed out in a corner with a bottle of gin. That smell—I remember being terrified for a moment without having any idea why. But I went over and picked up the bottle, and then I knew. I stopped being afraid.”
Pierce was silent for a long time, and Ryan said nothing. She waited, wanting him to continue yet knowing she couldn’t ask him to. The room was quiet but for the sound of his heart beating under her ear.
“He was a very cruel, very sick man,” Pierce murmured, and she knew he spoke again of his father. “For years I was certain that meant I had the same sickness.”
Gripping him tighter, Ryan shook her head. “There’s nothing cruel in you,” she whispered. “Nothing.”
“Would you think so if I told you where I came from?” he wondered. “Would you be willing to let me touch you then?”
Ryan lifted her head and swallowed tears. “Bess told me a week ago,” she said steadily. “And I’m here.” He said nothing, but she felt his hand fall away from her hair. “You have no right to be angry with her. She’s the most loyal, the most loving woman I’ve ever met. She told me because she knew I cared, knew I needed to understand you.”
He was very still. “When?”
“The night . . .” Ryan hesitated and took a breath. “Opening night.” She wished she could see his expression, but the darkness cloaked it. “You said we’d be lovers when I knew you,” she reminded him. “You were right.” Because her voice trembled, she swallowed. “Are you sorry?”
It seemed to her an eternity before he answered. “No.” Pierce drew her down to him again. “No.” He kissed her temple. “How could I be sorry to be your lover?”
“Then don’t be sorry that I know you. You’re the most magnificent man I’ve ever met.”
He laughed at that, half amused, half moved. And relieved, he discovered. The relief was tremendous. It made him laugh again. “Ryan, what an incredible thing to say.”
She tilted up her chin. There would be no tears for him. “It’s very true, but I won’t tell you again. You’ll get conceited.” She lifted her palm to his cheek. “But just for tonight I’ll let you enjoy it. And besides,” she added, pulling his ear. “I like the way your eyebrows sweep up at the ends.” She kissed his mouth, then let her lips roam his face. “And the way you write your name.”
“The way I what?” he asked.
“On the contracts,” Ryan elaborated, still planting light kisses all over his face. “It’s very dashing.” She felt the smile move his cheeks. “What do you like about me?” she demanded.
“Your taste,” he s
aid instantly. “It’s impeccable.”
Ryan bit his bottom lip, but he only rolled her over and turned the punishment into a very satisfying kiss. “I knew it would make you conceited,” “she said disgustedly. “I’m going to sleep.”
“I don’t think so,” Pierce corrected, then lowered his mouth.
He was right again.
Chapter 11
Saying goodbye to Pierce was one of the most difficult things Ryan had ever done. She had been tempted to forget every obligation, all of her ambitions, and ask him to take her with him. What were ambitions but empty goals if she was without him? She would tell him that she loved him, that nothing mattered but that they be together.
But when they had parted at the airport, she made herself smile, kiss him goodbye, and let go. She had to drive into Los Angeles, and he had to drive up the coast. The work that had brought them together would also keep them apart.
There had still been no talk of the future. Ryan had come to learn that Pierce didn’t speak of tomorrows. That he had spoken to her of his past, however briefly, reassured her. It was a step, perhaps a bigger one than either of them realized.
Time, Ryan thought, would tell if what had been between them in Las Vegas would strengthen or fade. This was the period of waiting. She knew that if he had regrets they would surface now while they were apart. Absence didn’t always make the heart grow fonder. It also allowed the blood and the brain to cool. Doubts had a habit of forming when there was time to think. When he came to L.A. for the first meetings, she would have her answer.
When Ryan entered her office, she glanced at her watch and ruefully realized that time and schedules were part of her world again. She had left Pierce only an hour before and missed him unbearably already. Was he thinking of her—right now, at this moment? If she concentrated hard enough, would he know that she thought of him? With a sigh Ryan sat behind her desk. Since she had become involved with Pierce, she’d become freer with her imagination. There were times, she had to admit, that she believed in magic.
What’s happened to you, Miss Swan? she asked herself. Your feet aren’t on the ground, where they belong. Love, she mused and cupped her chin on her hands. When you’re in love, nothing’s impossible.
Who could say why her father had taken ill and sent her to Pierce? What force had guided her hand to choose that fateful card from the Tarot deck? Why had the cat picked her window in the storm? Certainly there were logical explanations for each step that had taken her closer to where she was at that moment. But a woman in love doesn’t want logic.
It had been magic, Ryan thought with a smile. From the first moment their eyes had met, she had felt it. It had simply taken her time to accept it. Now that she did, her only choice was to wait and see if it lasted. No, she corrected, this wasn’t a time for choices. She was going to make it last. If it took patience, then she’d be patient. If it took action, then she would act. But she was going to make it work, even if it meant trying her own hand at enchantment.
Shaking her head, she sat back in her chair. Nothing could be done until he was back in her life again. That would take a week. For now, there was still work to do. She couldn’t wave a wand and brush the days away until he came back. She had to fill them. Flipping open her notes on Pierce Atkins, Ryan began to transcribe them. Less than thirty minutes later her buzzer sounded.
“Yes, Barbara.”
“The boss wants you.”
Ryan frowned at the litter of papers on her desk. “Now?”
“Now.”
“All right, thanks.” Swearing under her breath, Ryan stacked her papers, then separated what was in order to take with her. He might have given her a few hours to get organized, she thought. But the fact remained that he was going to be looking over her shoulder on this project. She was a long way from proving her worth to Bennett Swan. Knowing this, Ryan slipped papers into a folder and went to see her father.
“Good morning, Miss Swan.” Bennett Swan’s secretary glanced up as Ryan entered. “How was your trip?”
“It went very well, thank you.” Ryan watched the woman’s eyes shift briefly to the discreet, expensive pearl clusters at her ears. Ryan had worn her father’s birthday gift knowing he would want to see them to assure himself they were correct and appreciated.
“Mr. Swan had to step out for a moment, but he’ll be right with you. He’d like you to wait in his office. Mr. Ross is already inside.”
“Welcome back, Ryan.” Ned rose as she shut the door behind her. The coffee he held in his hand was steaming.
“Hello, Ned. Are you in on this meeting?”
“Mr. Swan wants me to work with you on this.” He gave her a charming, half-apologetic smile. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” she said flatly. Setting down the folder, she accepted the coffee Ned offered her. “In what capacity?”
“I’ll be production coordinator,” he told her. “It’s still your baby, Ryan.”
“Yes.” With you as my proctor, she thought bitterly. Swan would still be calling the shots.
“How was Vegas?”
“Unique,” Ryan told him as she wandered to the window.
“I hope you found some time to try your luck. You work too hard, Ryan.”
She fingered the ankh at her neck and smiled. “I played some blackjack. I won.”
“No kidding! Good for you.”
After sipping at the coffee, she set the cup aside. “I think I have a firm basis for what will suit Pierce, Swan Productions and the network,” she went on. “He doesn’t need names to draw ratings. I think more than one guest star would crowd him. As for the set, I’ll need to talk to the designers, but I have something fairly definite in mind already. As to the sponsors—”
“We can talk shop later,” Ned interrupted. He moved to her and twined the ends of her hair around his fingers. Ryan stayed still and stared out of the window. “I’ve missed you, Ryan,” Ned said softly. “It seemed as though you were gone for months.”
“Strange,” she murmured watching a plane cruise across the sky. “I’ve never known a week to pass so quickly.”
“Darling, how long are you going to punish me?” He kissed the top of her head. Ryan felt no resentment. She felt nothing at all. Oddly, Ned had found himself more attracted to her since she had rejected him. There was something different about her now, which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “If you’d just give me a chance, I could make it up to you.”
“I’m not punishing you, Ned.” Ryan turned to face him. “I’m sorry if it seems that way.”
“You’re still angry with me.”
“No, I told you before that I wasn’t.” She sighed, deciding it would be better to clear the air between them. “I was angry and hurt, but it didn’t last. I was never in love with you, Ned.”
He didn’t like the faint apology in her voice. It put him on the defensive. “We were just getting to know each other.” When he started to take her hands, she shook her head.
“No, I don’t think you know me at all. And,” she added without rancor, “if we’re going to be honest, that wasn’t what you were after.”
“Ryan, how many times do I have to apologize for that stupid suggestion?” There was a combination of hurt and regret in his voice.
“I’m not asking for an apology, Ned, I’m trying to make myself clear. You made a mistake assuming I could influence my father. You have more influence with him than I have.”
“Ryan—”
“No, hear me out,” she insisted. “You thought because I’m Bennett Swan’s daughter I have his ear. That’s just not true and never has been. His business associates have more input with him than I do. You wasted your time cultivating me to get to him. And, leaving that aside,” she continued, “I’m not interested in a man who wants to use me as a springboard. I’m sure we’ll work together very well, but I have no desire to see you outside of the office.”
They both jolted when they heard the office door shut.
“Ryan . . . Ross.” Bennett Swan walked over to his desk and sat down.
“Good morning.” Ryan fumbled a bit over the greeting before she took a chair. How much had he heard? she wondered. His face revealed nothing, so Ryan reached for the folder. “I’ve outlined my thoughts and ideas on Atkins,” she began, “though I haven’t had time to complete a full report.”
“Give me what you have.” He waved Ned to a chair, then lit a cigar.
“He has a very tight club act.” Ryan laced her fingers together to keep them still. “You’ve seen the tapes yourself, so you know that his act ranges from sleight of hand to large, complicated illusions to escapes that take two or three minutes. The escapes will keep him off camera for that amount of time, but the public expects that.” She paused to cross her legs. “Of course, we know there’ll have to be modifications for television, but I see no
