I’m totally floored. Not in a million years could I have expected this. I’ve pictured this moment over and over and never once did I fathom Ryan professing his undying love to me. Never.
I look out the window, my mind reeling, “Ryan, I don’t know. Even if I could get over the past, there’s still the present. I’m not sure I can deal with what you do.”
“It’s just a job,” he responds quickly.
I glance back at him; his cobalt eyes shining with provisional hope. Before I can say anything else, a strange voice mutters something over our table. “You’re that dancer right? Jack the Stripper?”
Ryan and I both look up; standing there is a brunette bombshell that screams slut. She has all the goods, tight shirt, tight pants, high heels and way too much makeup for daytime. I hate her instantly.
“Ah, yeah,” Ryan answers uncomfortably.
“I saw you a few weeks ago and you were amazing.” She smacks her lips; flagrant desire oozing all over her.
“Thanks,” Ryan smiles, and it’s sort of a half-flattered, half-mortified expression.
Miss God Almighty Makeup pulls a card out of her designer imposter purse. “Is this your girlfriend?” she asks.
“No,” I answer immediately.
“Yes.” Ryan pins me with a hard look.
My heart throbs.
“Well,” the brunette clicks a pen all sultry-like, “if she isn’t, I wouldn’t mind being.” She writes something down, “At least for one night.” Then she slides the business card across the table to Ryan, making sure to flash him some skin.
Skank.
He doesn’t touch the card as she straightens up and then ambles away.
I glare. My whole body is on fire. Pissed off, raging fire. A moment later, I uncontrollably grab the card and rip it in two. Then I slam it down on the table. I had absolutely no right to do that. But the thought of Ryan with her sent me straight over the edge.
“Just a job, huh?” I huff.
This is bad.
This is so, so bad.
A satisfied smile spreads across Ryan’s mouth. That freakin’ hot mouth that I want all over me.
“Don’t get too excited,” I tell him flatly, “I did that for your own good. She looked like a walking STD.”
“So what does this mean?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Uh huh.” He’s not buying it.
“You still have some more explaining to do,” I remind him.
Ryan frowns; telling me whatever he’s hiding is bad. I can feel it.
“Can we get out of here?” he asks.
“And go where?”
“Anywhere. Bryant Park maybe, someplace where there isn’t a piece of metal between us,” he kicks the table.
“Fine.”
Bryant Park is about a ten-minute walk down 6th street. That’s a relatively short walk when you’re in the city. And when it’s as nice as it is today, it feels like a two-minute walk with all the street vendors vying for your attention. Ryan holds my hand the whole way, even as we weave in and out of groups of pedestrians and across busy streets. I know I shouldn’t love it, but I do.
We finally get to Bryant Park, a green oasis nestled between towering skyscrapers. The place is absolutely swarming with people. Luckily though, we find two free chairs, the green fold-out looking ones the park is known for.
We’re sitting right next to some greenery across from the fountain. It’s actually sort of romantic.
Ryan pulls his chair right up next to mine, our bodies as close as they can possibly be short of him sitting on top of me. He doesn’t say anything; he just leans forward with his elbows on his knees looking over at me. He really is something.
“I’m going to law school in the fall,” I tell him, just to break the awkward silence.
He nods knowingly. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit. You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.”
“That will be determined at the end of the day.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on whether I fall for your charms or not.”
“Which way is the pendulum swinging?”
“Not.”
“See, smart,” he says and there’s a little bit of apprehension in his tone. “What law school are you going to?”
“Columbia.”
His face perks up, “The city?”
“Yes, you look happy about that.”
“I am. You’ll be close. Like, very close,” he smiles.
“And that’s really what you want? For me to be close?”
He leans into my face provocatively, “Yes.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. Just like I don’t know if I can trust you. But I’m going on faith.”
“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been the last five years?”
“Yes. I don’t want to keep anything from you. It’s the first brick of me building back your trust.”
“So spill it.”
“Will you sit on my lap?”
“Excuse me?”
“Will you sit on my lap, I want to touch you.”
“You can hold my hand.”
“I want to hold your body.” His eyes flash and my insides stir.
I hesitate for a beat before he pulls me onto him, my legs hanging over one side. He slides his arms around my waist locking me in, and then looks up at me. It’s an almost vulnerable stare.
“Okay, so you got me where you want me, talk.”
“This is nowhere close to where I want you, but I’ll take it for now,” his voice calling to me like a hypnotic melody. Ryan takes a deep breath then says, “Prison, I spent three and a half years in prison.”
“What?” I shift my body but he holds me tight. “Why were you in prison?”
“Because of my brother.”
“Sean? Why were you in prison because of Sean?”
“Because he’s a drug addict piece of shit.”
“Ryan.”
“It’s the truth. He’s always getting into trouble. And sometimes he drags me down with him.”
“So what, you got popped with drugs or something?”
“Not exactly.” His leg starts to shake. “You know I’m not from the most desirable family. Mother’s an alcoholic, father skipped out when I was three. Drug addict sibling.”
“That never mattered to me.”
“I know. That’s why it’s so important you understand what I’m about to tell you.” He takes my hand almost as if it’s his life line, “You know I would never lie to you.”
“You keep telling me,” I say dryly.
“I mean it. I also told you I love my family, even though they’re a fucked up bunch.”
“Yeah, well, no one’s family is perfect.”
Except maybe Emily’s.
Without even thinking I wrap one arm around Ryan’s shoulders. He looks up at me with those indomitable blue eyes, the same flicker of hope resurfacing from before. I don’t want to lead him on. But God, he feels so right. “So your family’s a fucked up bunch…?”
“Well, that morning, you know after the cabana? I went to grab some coffee and breakfast for us. From that little café on the promenade you liked. I was on my way back when I was pulled over. They said I was speeding. Maybe I was,” he rambles nervously. “They ran my license and before I knew it the cops were slapping hand cuffs on me for an outstanding warrant.”
“A warrant for what?”
“Failure to appear in court.”
“For what?”
“A drug charge.”
“But you don’t do drugs, or at least you didn’t?”
“Nope, I didn’t nor do I. But like I said, my brother does. And he’s been known to use my name on occasion.”
“He impersonated you?” I gasp.
“Yeah, scumbag. He’d only used it for little things before, speeding tickets, disorderly conduct, crap l
ike that. But that time he got busted for possession and used my information when he was arrested. He knows my social, my driver license number not to mention he looks just like me, he’s my identical twin.”
“So why didn’t you tell them it was Sean who used your information?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?” I ask outraged. “He stole your identity!”
“Alana,” Ryan tenses, turning his head away from me, “you don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand,” I take his face and force him to look at me.
Ryan feels so small now, not at all that sexual powerhouse from last night or even the sexy confident guy who walked into Dean & DeLuca this morning.
“Sean going to prison would have killed my mother,” he says. “She begged me to help him.”
“Help him how?”
“He would have died in jail,” Ryan says hastily.
The gears start grinding in my head, “You did the time for your brother?”
Ryan puts his head against my chest and I feel him nod, “Sean’s been in and out of trouble his whole life. He’s emotionally unbalanced. He has anger management issues and is manic depressive. That environment would have killed him one way or another.”
“So you sacrificed yourself?”
“What other choice did I have?”
“You could have made Sean own up.”
Ryan huffs and drops his head back, “I was backed into a corner, I didn’t want my mom or Sean to suffer. I can’t change my decision. I can only regret it.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Every goddamn day,” he looks me in the eyes with a tortured expression; it breaks my heart right in two. Those years must have been agony.
“You could have told me, Ryan. Sent me a letter, something.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want you finding me. I couldn’t bear for you to see me like that. I’d rather have you think I was an asshole then some convicted felon.”
“But you weren’t.”
“I looked like one.”
“Ryan, do you know what the last five years have been like for me? Wondering what happened to you?”
“I’m sorry I did that to you Alana, it’s all I can say.”
“I’m sorry too,” I look away sadly, wondering if I will ever get over this gnawing pain. Ryan puts his finger under my chin to bring my face back to his, when something horrifying dawns on me. “Where was Sean’s warrant issued?”
“Asbury Park.”
Fuck.
Asbury, which it’s also known as, has two sections. The eastern beach area with restaurants, shops and a concert hall that is frequented by both tourists and locals. And the western side, away from the ocean, which is riddled with low income housing, dilapidated buildings, gangs and drugs.
Asbury is also in my father’s court district.
“Who…who convicted you?” I swallow the lump in my throat. There are several superior court judges who try criminal cases.
Ryan clams up immediately.
“Who?” I press him.
“Judge Remington.”
I blanche. Of course, my father.
This story just gets better and better.
My head starts to pound, “Is that part of the reason why you stayed away?”
Ryan nods.
Holy hell, not even the creators of Law and Order could make this shit up.
I turn over all of this new information in my head. Ryan doing time for his brother, my father convicting him, me spending the last five years wondering what I did wrong, only to find out it wasn’t my fault at all.
The world suddenly becomes a blur of delusion and reality.
There’s an unexpected shift inside me. The plausibility I can give Ryan a second chance is suddenly real; alarmingly real.
I don’t know how to find the words. Expressing what I feel is challenging for me on so many levels, but I want him.
I’ve always wanted him.
I reach down and grab Ryan’s face, tilting it up to mine. He freezes under my stare; a blonde waterfall of my hair falling around us. I inch in slowly, without closing my eyes and press my lips gently against his. He doesn’t move, not a muscle, as our mouths connect. He just lets me in; in his heart, in his head, and in his soul as he succumbs to my kiss.
And I do the same.
His hands suddenly trap my head in place as he kisses me harder, his tongue reclaiming what was once his.
And it’s the exact same kiss from the cabana; slow and torrid and full of love.
“Can you stay?” Ryan asks out of breath and full of need.
“Huh?” I answer a little starry-eyed. That was one sidewalk-singeing kiss.
“Can you stay in the city with me tonight?”
“Um,” I blink out of my haze, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Ryan looks disappointed.
“I need some time to think on my own. To sort things out.” I look at my watch, 4:20 PM. If I leave now I can catch the 5:07 home. Not that I really want to leave. Ryan. Ever again. But I need to hash out everything my brain is thinking and everything my body is feeling.
“Will you walk me to Penn station?” I ask him.
He nods, reluctantly.
I start to shift off him, but he grabs me. I can see what he wants, his eyes giving him away. But I can’t stay. Not today. But soon, I think. Very soon.
We head out of Bryant Park down Broadway towards the train. Holding hands the whole time. As we walk, I can’t help but think about how surreal this day has been. One chance encounter has rearranged my entire world and nothing is going to be the same. There’s still some fear in me though, that Ryan will pull another disappearing act. I believe everything he told me, but putting my full trust in him again? That may take a while.
Ryan and I make our way to Madison Square Garden with people coming and going in every direction. There’s an outside entrance to NJ transit, which is where I need to catch the train. I stand at the top of the steps, Ryan’s hands firmly around my waist.
“When will I see you again?” he asks.
“Wednesday,” I tell him. “I’ll be in the city looking at apartments in the morning, then I’ll have the rest of the day free,” I pull a strand of blonde hair away from my face; standing near the stairwell is like being in a wind tunnel.
“Wednesday,” he agrees.
I give him a soft peck on the cheek then turn to leave, but he grabs my arm and slams me into his chest. Then he kisses me. Hard. Right there in the middle of pedestrian traffic, and it’s the kind of kiss that slows time, increases heart rates and brings a city block to its knees.
Ryan exhales breathing my name. His eyes closed, his forehead planted to mine. Now I really need to leave, because my willpower is dissolving. One more second in his arms and I am spending the night in the city. Maybe the week. Possibly the month.
I glance at my watch. The train will be here in two minutes. “I have to go,” I say softly, wiping some of my lip gloss away from his mouth.
“Wednesday,” he stipulates.
“Wednesday,” I agree, and then turn to leave. Mustering all the strength I have to walk down the stairs and away from the one man who not once, but twice, shocked my world alive.
“Alana!” I hear Ryan call and I turn on the stairs. “I’m not disappearing, not this time.”
I look at him conspicuously.
“Time will tell, Ryan. Time will tell.”
“It will take an act of God to keep me away,” he professes.
I smirk hopefully as I disappear out of sight.
I hop onto the train and walk the three stairs down to the lower level. I hand the conductor my ticket to punch then settle back in one of the light blue pleather seats. The tracks making a clicking sound as the train pulls away. I stare out the window daydreaming about Ryan. His hands, his face, his eyes his lips. Oh, this is so bad. He’s back in my life for one day and I’m already hooked. I pull out my phone and text Em
ily asking if she is free to meet for dinner. Not a minute later she replies with a time and place. I know she is salivating for details.
The train pulls into my stop at 6:23 PM. Dinner time, perfect. I’m starving, even though my stomach is in knots. I hop into my little white Audi and head over to the Italian restaurant Emily suggested. It’s a little hole in the wall where you can get the best Ruffino and penne vodka this side of Little Italy. I pull into the parking lot and quickly turn off the engine. When I get inside I find Emily sitting at a table in the back, the lights are dim and there are candles dripping with wax in Chianti bottles, giving the room a romantic glow. But she’s not alone.
“Uncle John,” I say as I walk up to the table, glancing at Emily. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
He stands and gives me a bear hug. He’s the most warm, affectionate man I know, next to Ryan, and sometimes I consider him more of a father then my own. “I missed my girl,” he looks down at Emily. “She said she was meeting you here and I thought I would stop by and have a drink. See how everything went last night,” he gives her a knowing smile.
I nearly tear at the seams.
“Dad, please. Like I would give you details,” Emily smiles.
“Probably for the best,” he grins. My uncle John has all the traits of my father; he’s a tall, stocky man with warm brown eyes and dark black hair. Except his is thinning and not gray yet.
And he’s always smiling.
“Are you eating with us?” I ask.
“No, Emily made it very clear this dinner is strictly girl business. So she promised me breakfast tomorrow morning. You can join us if you’d like.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense, you’re both my girls. And I miss spending time with you, too.”
I glance down at Emily to make sure it’s okay. She’s nodding excessively.
“It’s all settled then,” my uncle John says pleased. “I’ll see you two at the beach club at ten.” He kisses our foreheads and then heads for the door, both of us watching him like hawks. As soon as he is out of sight Emily immediately says, “So spill. What happened? Did you hook up?”
“Emily, how easy do you think I am?”
“Alana, you’re absolutely glowing. And this is Ryan. Ry-an,” she exaggerates his name.
Strip Me Bare Page 4
