Challenging Andie

by Sally Clements

  She pulled back to look into his face. “The sooner you let yourself explore the memories you’ve forced into that box in your heart, the sooner you’ll be free from them.”

  His finger traced her ear. His mouth lowered to hers, and he breathed against her parted lips. “So, maybe I need a list of challenges too.”

  Then, surrendering to what would be, he kissed her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As darkness stole the last fading light from the sky, Ryan stacked a couple of logs on the fire in the grate. Andie had picked flowers from the garden earlier. She’d arranged them in a small white milk-jug, and now she placed the jug in the center of the table, which was transformed by a white tablecloth she’d found somewhere. She’d added tall crystal candlesticks, and the best glasses. A bottle of red was open on the table, ready for Brianne’s arrival.

  The scent of roasting chicken hanging in the air made his mouth water.

  Gravel crunched, and the sound of an engine’s purr heralded his sister’s arrival. Ryan strode to the door and flung it open wide, smiling at the sight of the tiny red sports car. Only Bri could get away with driving that—no normal-sized person would fit.

  She climbed out as he walked over to greet her.

  Bri looked thinner than the last time he saw her. Her dark hair was cut in a straight bob that touched her shoulders, with the ends of the fringe tipped with dark blue. She was wearing another of the lacy sweaters she favored, on top of an ankle length dress in muted blues and greens. Flat silver sandals were laced up her ankles. On seeing him, a wide smile spread across her face. “Hi, stranger.”

  “Hey.” Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Good to see you.”

  Brianne’s gaze searched his. A tiny frown appeared between her brows. “How are you, Ryan, are you okay?”

  He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t brush off her concern like he had so many times before. Brianne had always seen too much, known him too well to be diverted by a casual comment. It was the main reason that he’d avoided making contact over the past while. With his defenses in tatters, he couldn’t—and didn’t even want to—try to lie.

  “I’ve been better,” he admitted in a deep voice. “But I’m working on it.”

  Brianne squeezed his hand. “In that case, I’m doubly glad I’m here.” Her eyes flickered behind him, reminding Ryan he wasn’t alone, and that he had an introduction to make. He turned to the open front door, “I want you to meet Andie.” He tugged Brianne’s hand. “You’ll like her.”

  The liking was obviously mutual. Ryan carved the chicken by candlelight as the two women got to know each other with warm smiles and laughter. They were so different, but to his surprise, an instant rapport sprang up between them. Their body language was plain. There was no attempt to ‘get on’ because of their shared link to him, but rather a deep and natural interest in each other’s lives and interests.

  Andie passed plates up to him to fill with chicken without even glancing his direction as she chatted to Brianne. His sister seemed equally captivated, asking Andie questions about her job, and the children she taught. Did they do arts and crafts, what did she think of the recent budget cuts…

  By the time he’d taken his place at the table, he was feeling decidedly like a third wheel. “Pass the potatoes?”

  Bri stopped mid-sentence and shot him a glance. She looked surprised, as if she’d forgotten for a moment that he was even there.

  “Here you go.” She handed the large bowl across the table. “This dinner is fantastic.” She speared a forkful and chewed with a completely over-the-top look of bliss on her face. “Umm. Tastes as good as it looks and smells. This your handiwork, Andie?”

  Andie grinned. She reached for the peas they’d picked up at the farmer’s market earlier, and raised her eyebrows in silent query before handing them to Ryan. “I’ve got a limited repertoire,” she admitted ruefully. “Gran made sure I could at least cook a chicken properly. Self-preservation on her part, I think.”

  Bri waved a hand over the spread on the table. “Chicken’s pretty easy,” she agreed. “But come on, gorgeous roasties, perfect gravy, and the stuffing’s to die for.” Her gaze flickered to Ryan. “If I was our mother, I’d say something horribly sexist like ‘you’re a lucky man,’ Ry.”

  Ryan nodded. “She can walk and talk too.”

  Andie’s jaw dropped. She batted Ryan on the arm. “The cheek of him,” she said to Brianne in an aside that had Bri spluttering.

  “Aw, honey,” Ryan teased back, loving the light of fun that shone from Andie’s eyes.

  She rolled her eyes at him, but her cheek dimpled in the way that always made him want to kiss the tiny indentation. Her hair gleamed like silk in the candlelight, and the dress she’d changed into for dinner, with its deep V at the neckline, showcased the long expanse of neck.

  Ryan swallowed.

  Brianne cleared her throat. “Uh, hello? I’m here, you know.”

  Ryan glanced over. “Now you know how I feel. You two barely noticed me earlier.”

  Brianne’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Andie, you’ve obviously woven some sort of spell over my brother. I’ve never seen him so…animated.”

  “I can be fun.”

  Brianne’s eyebrows rose.

  “I can.”

  “He can,” Andie said in a soft voice.

  Brianne didn’t reply. Silence hung in the air for long seconds.

  Then Brianne smiled. “Glad to hear it.” She held her plate out. “Can I have some more of that stuffing?”

  *****

  Brianne was as different from Ryan as chalk and cheese. Petite to his tall, open and chatty to his quietly intense. She wore a long dress that swirled around her tiny ankles, her equally petite wrists just visible at the end of her lacy emerald jumper.

  Bri was bottled sunshine.

  “So, tell me about your job,” Andie offered. “It’s got to be to do with color.”

  Everything about Brianne screamed color. Her home and garden were beautiful testimonies to her passion, and in person she was so vibrant and alive she almost made Andie’s eyes hurt. Andie’s mind wandered back over her own rather drab everyday wardrobe, and the house she shared with Gran, with its walls covered in a multitude of shades of white and magnolia. It would be difficult to get back into the life she was taking time out from, especially with the inevitable heartbreak the loss of Ryan would bring.

  Her ebullient mood dipped.

  And there were still long months of summer to look forward to before she could count on the distraction of school to pull her out of this funk. Maybe when she got back, she could paint the house. Add a few of the colorful touches Bri had sprinkled so masterfully around to lighten the mood.

  “I work in an art gallery in London, The Allardice Gallery,” Bri confided. “We represent a number of well-known artists, and I organize the shows.”

  “You do more than that, Bri, you practically run the place.”

  Brianne’s shoulders rose and fell in an elegant shrug. “The owner, Carl, is pretty busy too. There are only the two of us, so I guess a lot of the day-to-day falls to me.”

  Andie glanced around. “You’ve done a wonderful job of the cottage, and the garden is beautiful.”

  Brianne grinned. “I’m glad you like it. Have you seen the studio?”

  Andie glanced at Ryan.

  He shook his head. “We haven’t got that far, Bri.”

  Brianne tsked. “You mean in all the time you’ve been here, you haven’t walked Andie down to the bottom of the garden? What have you been doing?” Her mouth curved into a grin again, and she shook her head. She raised her hands, palms out. “No, don’t answer that. I can guess.”

  She focused on Andie again. “He did tell you I’m an artist as well as a gallery employee, right? The picture above the mantle is one of mine.”

  The beautiful canvas above the fireplace had been one of the first things Andie had noticed on arrival at the cottage. “He told me.” She glan
ced at the painting again, appreciating it anew. “I love it.”

  “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from.” Andie leaned closer. “I have a studio hidden in the foliage at the bottom of the garden. I usually spend the weekends down there painting away. I’ll show it to you tomorrow. Do you paint at all?”

  “I’ve never tried,” Andie confessed. “Apart from finger-painting. There’s a lot of finger-painting at school.”

  “You should try it—there’s nothing like capturing your feelings on canvas.” Her eyes gleamed. “It’s really satisfying.”

  Andie’s fingers tingled. She’d always enjoyed arty things when she was a child, but had sort of forgotten that side of life when she grew to adulthood. For years, there hadn’t been time, what with looking after Gran, working, and running the household. Now, all that was in the past, and she had a new future to create. Maybe adding something artistic to her list of challenges would be a good idea. “I don’t really know where to begin, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

  “If this weather keeps up, we can get the easels out in the garden sometime over the weekend and give it a go.” Brianne glanced at Ryan. “Maybe you’ll even join us, Ryan?” Her chin tilted up. “How about it, on for a challenge?”

  A little line of tension thinned Ryan’s mouth. Too subtle to notice, unless you looked carefully. “Maybe.”

  “Ah, same old Ry.” Brianne arranged her fork and knife on the plate. “Always reticent to commit himself.”

  “Huh,” Ryan muttered. “If you don’t behave yourself, they’ll be no apple pie for you.”

  Brianne’s eyes widened. She patted her flat stomach with a ring-bedecked hand. “You mean there’s more?” She reached for the plates, stacked them and stood from the table. “Come on, let’s get it.”

  “Glad to see you haven’t lost your appetite.” Ryan stood too, and picked up the empty vegetable bowls. He cast a final aside Andie’s direction as he followed his tiny sister into the kitchen. “She eats like a horse.”

  Andie wandered to the fireplace and added a couple of logs, breathing in the smell of wood smoke as a flickering spark leapt when the wood settled. She stretched her arms out and felt the heat seep into her palms. She’d miss this place. She’d miss Ryan. Her home was filled with echoes of another time, and with people who would never return. Even though Emily had been absent, there was always the hope of her, the expectation that one day she’d return for a fleeting visit, and they could be a family again. Now, that prospect was gone, and the future in the house once shared with her grandmother felt empty and lonely.

  She wrapped her arms around her torso, as if trying to capture the heat of the fire and force it into the coldness that crept through her body. While she’d been so busy with school, and later, her mother’s funeral arrangements, there hadn’t been time to merely think. Her mind had been focused on the past, and dealing with the present.

  Perhaps it was time to re-evaluate the future.

  *****

  They finished the evening in front of a roaring fire. Ryan snagged the large armchair, while Brianne and Andie sat on the sofa with legs outstretched to its warmth.

  “Gosh, it feels good to be doing nothing for a few days,” Bri said, pulling the wrap from the back of the sofa and spreading it across their legs. “I’ve been working every hour, and Carl has even insisted I bring my laptop so he can email me while I’m away.”

  “That’s hardly a holiday,” Ryan said, hearing the disapproval in his voice, and unapologetic for it. “It sounds like your boss is taking advantage. He must be a real slave-driver.”

  “Not so much a slave-driver, just needy,” Bri said. “And it’s hardly his fault I’m so good at my job I’m irreplaceable.”

  He’d thought he was so good at his job and he was irreplaceable too, but the fact of the matter was that any hard-boiled journalist with the burning drive to ignore all other aspects of life would be equally valuable. Somewhere along the line, his hard edge had softened. Normally, he’d be totally focused on the unfolding events in Bekostan, stalking the television and internet for hints of the upcoming coup, and burning up the wires to Ben with every new story strand that broke, evaluating its relevance.

  He ran a hand through his hair. He should really tune in to the twenty-four news channels…

  Andie got up and walked to the log basket.

  Ryan leaned forward to hand her a log, his fingers brushing hers as she took it and put it onto the smoldering flame. He breathed in the smell of her hair, mixed with the lingering scent of wood-smoke that perfumed the air. God, I’m getting so damn domesticated, I’ll want cocoa next.

  “Anyone want some cocoa?” As if reading his mind, Brianne glanced over and delivered the line.

  “Ummm. Me!” Andie murmured.

  “Ry?”

  “Sure.” Events in Bekostan would be front and center early enough. For now, there was good company, the heat of the fire, and living to do. There was no way he could deny himself any of it.

  Later, with the embers glowing in the grate, Ryan put the spark-guard up in front of the fireplace, while Brianne carried in her stuff from the car. In consideration of the bigger bed, they were staying where they were in Brianne’s bedroom, while she stayed into the spare room.

  Guilt tugged at the fact he hadn’t interrupted while Bri was enthusing about all the time they’d have together, and told her the truth—that he’d be leaving much sooner than expected. She’d been so happy to see him, so glad he wasn’t running for the hills, he hadn’t been able to countenance watching all that bubbling joy evaporate.

  With any luck, Andie would stay for the rest of the weekend and the two of them could have fun without him.

  Leaving with things in limbo between him and Andie held little appeal too.

  The front door slammed. “Right, I’m off to bed,” Bri announced.

  “I’ll carry your bag up.” Ryan took the hold-all from her hand.

  She slanted him a look, accentuated by a slow smile that started at her lips and made it all the way up to her sparkling eyes. “There’s practically nothing in it,” she teased. “But if you insist…” She gripped his arm as they walked slowly up the stairs. “I’m so glad we’re together, Ry. Especially now.” Her hand squeezed his bicep. “I’ve missed you.”

  Before he had a chance to question her about why now was so important, she disentangled herself, reached for the bag, and slipped into the spare room with a quiet “Goodnight.”

  Puzzling over his sister’s words, Ryan closed the bedroom door. She’d made some mention previously about being glad he’d remembered. Remembered what?

  A voice from the bed said, “You’re frowning.”

  Andie lay under the duvet, her long hair golden in the muted light.

  “It’s nothing.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and bent to take off his shoes and socks.

  Andie scooted up in bed, revealing bare shoulders and a dove grey slip of silk that cupped her breasts in a way that stilled his fingers from their task, and dried his throat.

  Her forehead creased. “Are you sure?”

  Why did women always want to talk when there were so many other more interesting things to do? He trailed a finger down her upper arm, watching her lips part.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” He undressed quickly climbed into bed, banishing the last lingering hint of question from her eyes with a kiss.

  The slide from soft skin to slippery silk was unbearably erotic. The spaghetti straps fell easily from her shoulders, allowing him to push the nightgown to her waist. She sighed at his touch. Arched up, and entangled her fingers in his hair.

  As their mouths met, and their bodies moved in perfect sync, Ryan breathed in her scent, totally attuned to her every breath, as it came faster and faster. With one tug, she was on top of him, silky strands brushing his chest for a moment before she straightened.

  Love. The word echoed in his heart, demanding release.

  He clamped his mouth shut to deny it.
He liked her, needed her, but it couldn’t be love. He’d seen the devastation loving and losing delivered again and again. Not only his mother’s pain but the heartbreaking sorrow of Laila Jalludin when her husband was killed.

  The bar in Rexa was filled with hardened men who’d lost their wives’ love in their relentless pursuit of a story. They’d replaced love with alcohol and hookers. Killed hope with cynicism. Love didn’t last.

  Her gentle undulation above him banished thought. Except for one. Their time together wasn’t over. When his visit to Bekostan was done, he’d tell her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Another beautiful day. Andie sat at the mosaic-top table in the early morning sunlight and tilted her head up to the sun’s warming rays. Closed eyes blocked one of her senses, sharpened the others.

  The scent of lemon thyme, crushed underfoot on her journey to the table moments ago, wafted in the air, and if she concentrated, she fancied she could also discern the scent of lavender and stocks planted in the large terracotta pots next to the table.

  Hearing too, was accentuated. Footsteps on the patio.

  “Sun worshipping?” Ryan’s deep voice murmured.

  Eyes flickered open. “Who knows how long this weather will last? I’m enjoying it while I can.” The words echoed in her mind. Enjoying it while I can. Just like the moments ticking down to Ryan’s departure. Before clouds occluded the perfect brightness. She straightened, forcing the small of her back into the chair. “No sign of Brianne yet?”

  Ryan laughed. “We’ll be lucky to see her before noon. She loves her sleep.”

  Lucky her. Andie had wakened the moment light streamed through the lacy voile curtains. They lay closely entwined, Ryan’s hand on her hip and her head cradled against the juncture of his shoulder and chest. She’d rested there for long moments, listening to his steady breaths, reveling in the sight of his face relaxed in sleep. Long eyelashes rested against his cheek, and morning stubble darkened his jaw line. Her fingers flexed, and her palm flattened, feeling the heart within pounding against her hand.