by Nora Roberts
you’d told me you were this hungry, I’d have come along peacefully.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said easily. “I thought we’d stop and eat on the way.”
“On the way?” Ryan repeated. “On the way where?”
“Home.”
“Home?” A glance out the window showed her he was heading out of L.A. in the opposite direction of her apartment. “Your home?” she asked incredulously. “Pierce, that’s a hundred and fifty miles from here.”
“More or less,” he agreed. “You’re not needed in L.A. until Monday.”
“Monday! Do you mean we’re going there for the weekend? But I can’t.” She hadn’t thought she could be any more exasperated than she already was. “I can’t just pop in the car and go off for a weekend.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I . . .” He made it sound so reasonable, she had to search for the flaw. “Because I can’t. I don’t have any clothes, for one thing, and—”
“You won’t need them.”
That stopped her. Ryan stared at him while a strange mixture of excitement and panic ran through her. “I think you’re kidnapping me.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh.”
“Any objections?” he asked, giving her a brief glance. “I’ll let you know Monday,” she told him and settled back in the seat, prepared to enjoy her abduction.
Chapter 13
Ryan awoke in Pierce’s bed. She opened her eyes to streaming sunlight. It had barely been dawn when Pierce had awakened her to murmur that he was going down to work. Ryan reached for his pillow, drew it closer and lingered a few minutes longer in bed.
What a surprising man he was, she mused. She would never have thought he would do anything as outrageous as handcuffing her to him and bundling her off for a weekend with nothing more than the clothes on her back. She should have been angry, indignant.
Ryan buried her face in his pillow. How could she be? Could you be angry with a man for showing you—with a look, with a touch—that you were needed and desired? Could you be indignant when a man wanted you enough to spirit you off to make love to you as though you were the most precious creature on earth?
Ryan stretched luxuriously, then picked up her watch from the nightstand. Nine-thirty! she thought with a jolt. How could it be so late? It seemed only moments ago that Pierce had left her. Jumping from the bed, she raced to the shower. They only had two days together; she wasn’t going to waste them sleeping.
When she came back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her, Ryan studied her clothes dubiously. There was something to be said for being kidnapped by a dashing magician, she admitted, but it was really too bad he hadn’t let her pack something first. Philosophically, she began to dress in the suit she had worn the day before. He’d simply have to find her something else to wear, she decided, but for now she’d make do.
With some consternation Ryan realized she didn’t even have her purse with her. It was still in the bottom drawer of her desk. She wrinkled her nose at the reflection in the mirror. Her hair was tumbled, her face naked of cosmetics. Not even a comb and a lipstick, she thought and sighed. Pierce was going to have to conjure up something. With this in mind she went downstairs to look for him.
When she came to the foot of the stairs, she saw Link getting ready to leave. “Good morning.” Ryan hesitated, unsure what to say to him. He’d been nowhere to be seen when they had arrived the night before.
“Hi.” He grinned at her. “Pierce said you were here.”
“Yes, I—he invited me for the weekend.” It seemed the simplest way to put it.
“I’m glad you came. He missed you.”
Her eyes lit up at that. “I missed him, too. Is he here?”
“In the library. He’s on the phone.” He hesitated, and Ryan saw the faint pink flush in his cheeks.
Smiling, she came down the last step. “What is it, Link?”
“I—uh—I finished writing that song you liked.”
“That’s wonderful. I’d love to hear it.”
“It’s on the piano.” Excruciatingly embarrassed, he lowered his eyes to his shoes. “You can play it later if you want to.”
“Won’t you be here?” She wanted to take his hand as she would a little boy’s but felt it would only embarrass him more. “I’ve never heard you play.”
“No, I’m . . .” His color deepened, and he sent her a quick look. “Bess and I . . . well, she wanted to drive to San Francisco.” He cleared his throat. “She likes to ride the streetcars.”
“That’s nice, Link.” On impulse, Ryan decided to see if she could give Bess a hand. “She’s a very special lady, isn’t she?”
“Oh, sure. There’s nobody else like Bess,” he agreed readily, then stared at his shoes again.
“She feels just the same way about you.”
His eyes darted to her face, then over her shoulder. “You think so?”
“Oh, yes.” Though she wanted badly to smile, Ryan kept her voice serious. “She told me how she first met you. I thought it was terribly romantic.”
Link gave a nervous little laugh. “She was awful pretty. Lots of guys hang around her when we go on the road.”
“I imagine so,” Ryan agreed and gave him a mental shove. “But I think she has a taste for musicians. Piano players,” she added when he looked back at her. “The kind who know how to write beautifully romantic songs. Time’s wasting, don’t you think?”
Link was staring at her as though trying to sort out her words. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He wrinkled his brow, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I should go get her now.”
“I think that’s a very good idea.” She did take his hand now, giving it a quick squeeze. “Have a good time.”
“Okay.” He smiled and turned for the door. With his hand on the knob, he stopped to look over his shoulder. “Ryan, does she really like piano players?”
“Yes, Link, she really does.”
He grinned again and opened the door. “Bye.”
“Goodbye, Link. Give Bess my love.”
When the door shut, Ryan remained where she was a moment. What a sweet man, she thought, then crossed her fingers for Bess. They would be wonderful together if they could just get over the obstacle of his shyness. Well, Ryan thought with a pleased smile, she had certainly done all she could in her first attempt at matchmaking. The rest was up to the two of them.
Turning down the hall, she went to the library. The door was open, and she could hear Pierce’s low-pitched voice as it carried to her. Even the sound of it had something stirring inside her. He was here with her, and they were alone. When she stood in the doorway, his eyes met hers.
Pierce smiled, and continued his conversation, gestured her inside. “I’ll send you the exact specifications in writing,” he said, watching Ryan enter and wander to a bookshelf. Why was it, he wondered, that the sight of her in one of those prim business suits never failed to excite him? “No, I’ll need it completed in three weeks. I can’t give you any more time than that,” he continued with his eyes fixed on Ryan’s back. “I need time to work with it before I can be sure I can use it.”
Ryan turned around, then, perching on the arm of a chair, she watched him. He wore jeans with a short-sleeved sweatshirt, and his hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hands through it. She thought he had never looked more attractive, sunk back in an overstuffed chair, more relaxed than usual. The energy was still there, the live-wire energy that seemed to spark from him onstage or off. But it was on hold, she mused. He was more at ease in this house than he was anywhere else.
He continued to give instructions to whomever it was he spoke to, but Ryan watched his eyes skim her briefly. Something impish shot through her. Perhaps she could ruffle that calm of his.
Rising idly, she began to wander the room again, stepping out of her shoes as she did so. She took a book from the shelf, skimmed through it, then replaced it.
“I’ll need the entire list delivered he
re,” Pierce stated and watched Ryan slip out of her suit jacket. She draped it over the back of a chair. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want. If you’ll—” He broke off as she began to unbutton her blouse. She looked up when he stopped speaking and smiled at him. “If you’ll contact me when you have . . .” The blouse slid to the floor before she casually unzipped her skirt. “When you have . . .” Pierce went on, struggling to remember what he had been saying, “the—ah—all the items, I’ll arrange for the freight.”
Bending over after she stepped out of her skirt, Ryan began to unhook her stockings. “No, that won’t—it won’t be necessary.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and sent Pierce another smile. The look held for several pulsing seconds. “Yes,” Pierce mumbled into the phone. “Yes, that’s fine.”
Leaving the pool of nylons on the discarded skirt, she straightened. Her chemise laced up the front. With one finger Ryan pulled at the small bow between her breasts until it loosened. She kept her eyes on his, smiling again when she watched them lower to where her fingers worked slowly with the laces.
“What?” Pierce shook his head. The man’s voice had been nothing but an unintelligible buzz in his ear. “What?” he said again as the silk parted. Very slowly, Ryan drew it off. “I’ll get back to you.” Pierce dropped the receiver back on the hook.
“All finished?” she asked as she walked to him. “I wanted to talk to you about my wardrobe.”
“I like what you have on.” He pulled her into the chair with him and found her mouth. Tasting the wild need, she let herself go limp.
“Was that an important call?” she asked when his lips moved to her neck. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“The hell you didn’t.” He reached for her breast, groaning when he took possession. “God, you drive me crazy! Ryan . . .” His voice was rough with urgency as he slid her to the floor. “Now.”
“Yes,” she murmured even as he entered her.
He trembled as he lay on top of her. His breath was ragged. No one, he thought, no one had ever been able to destroy his control this way. It was terrifying. Part of him wanted to stand up and walk away—to prove he could still walk away. But he stayed where he was.
“Dangerous,” he murmured in her ear just before he let the tip of his tongue trace it. He heard her sigh. “You’re a dangerous woman.”
“Mmm, how so?”
“You know my weaknesses, Ryan Swan. Maybe you are my weakness.”
“Is that bad?” she murmured.
“I don’t know.” He lifted his head and stared down at her. “I don’t know.”
Ryan lifted a hand to tenderly brush the hair from his forehead. “It doesn’t matter today. Today there’s only the two of us.”
The look he gave her was long and deep, as intense as the first time their eyes had met. “The more I’m with you, the more there are only the two of us.”
She smiled, then pulled him back to cradle him in her arms. “The first time you kissed me, the whole world dropped away. I tried to tell myself you had hypnotized me.”
Pierce laughed and reached up to fondle her breast. The nipple was still taut, and she quivered at his touch. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to take you to bed that night?” He ran his thumb lazily back and forth over the point of her breast, listening to her quickening breathing as he spoke. “I couldn’t work, I couldn’t sleep. I lay there thinking about how you’d looked in that little bit of silk and lace.”
“I wanted you,” Ryan said huskily as fresh passion kindled. “I was shocked that I’d only known you for a few hours and I wanted you.”
“I would have made love to you like this that night.” Pierce touched his mouth to hers. He kissed her, using his lips only until hers were hot and soft and hungry. Both of his hands were in her hair now, drawing it back from her face as his tongue gently plundered.
It seemed he would kiss her endlessly. There were soft, murmuring sounds as their lips parted and met again, then again. Hot, heady, unbearably sweet. He stroked her shoulders, lingering at the slope while the kiss went on and on. She knew the world centered on his lips.
No matter where else he touched, his mouth remained on hers. He might run his hands wherever he chose, but his kiss alone kept her prisoner. He seemed to crave her taste more than he craved breath. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh and totally unaware of it. Her only thought was that the kiss go on forever.
He knew her body was totally his and touched where it gave them both the most pleasure. At the slightest urging, her legs parted for him. He traced a fingertip up and down the inside of her thigh, delighting in its silken texture and in her trembling response. He passed over the center of her only briefly on the journey to her other thigh, all the while toying with her lips.
He used his teeth and his tongue, then his lips only. Her delirious murmuring of his name sent fresh thrills racing along his skin. There was the subtle sweep of her hips to trace, the curve of her waist. Her arms were satin smooth. He could find endless delight in touching only them. She was his—he thought it again and had to control an explosive urge to take her quickly. Instead, he let the kiss speak for him. It spoke of dark, driving needs and infinite tenderness.
Even when he slipped inside her, Pierce continued to savor the taste of her mouth. He took her slowly, waiting for her needs to build, forcing back his own passion until it was no longer possible to deny it.
His mouth was still crushed to hers when she cried out with the final flash of pleasure.
No one but her, he thought dizzily as he breathed in the scent of her hair. No one but her. Ryan’s arms came around him to keep him close. He knew he was trapped.
***
Hours later Ryan slid two steaks under the broiler. She was dressed now in a pair of Pierce’s jeans, cinched at the waist with a belt, with the legs rolled up several times to adjust for their difference in height. The sweatshirt bagged over her hips. Ryan pushed the sleeves up past the elbow while she helped him prepare dinner.
“Do you cook as well as Link?” she demanded, turning to watch him add croutons to the salad he was making.
“No. When you’re kidnapped, Miss Swan, you can’t expect gourmet meals.”
Ryan went to stand behind him, then slipped her arms around his waist. “Are you going to demand a ransom?” With a sigh she rested her cheek on his back. She had never been happier in her life.
“Perhaps. When I’m through with you.”
She pinched him hard, but he didn’t even flinch. “Louse,” she said lovingly, then slipped her hands under his shirt to trail her fingers up his chest. This time she felt him quiver.
“You distract me, Ryan.”
“I was hoping to. It isn’t the simplest thing to do, you know.”
“You’ve been having a remarkable streak of success,” he commented as she ran her hands over his shoulders.
“Can you really dislocate your shoulders to get out of a straightjacket?” she wondered aloud as she felt the strength of their solidity.
Amused, he continued to cube cheese for the salad. “Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, somewhere,” she said vaguely, not willing to admit she had devoured every write-up she could find on him. “I also heard you have complete control over your muscles.” They rippled under her curious fingers. She pressed into his back, enjoying the faint forest scent that clung to him.
“Do you also hear that I only eat certain herbs and roots that I gather under a full moon?” He popped a morsel of cheese in his mouth before he turned to gather her into his arms. “Or that I studied the magic arts in Tibet when I was twelve?”
“I read that you were tutored by Houdini’s ghost,” she countered.
“Really? I must have missed that one. Very flattering.”
“You really enjoy the ridiculous things they print about you, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He kissed her nose. “I’d have a sorry sense of humor if I didn’t.”
&
nbsp; “And of course,” she added, “if the fact and fantasy are so mixed, nobody ever knows which is which or who you are.”
“There’s that, too.” He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. “The more they print about me, Ryan, the more actual privacy I have.”
“And your privacy is important to you.”
“When you grow up the way I did, you learn to value it.”
Pressing her face to his chest, Ryan clung to him. Pierce put his hand under her chin and lifted it. Her eyes were already glistening with tears.
