I Will Always Love You

by Kathryn Shay

  “Tater loved the princess in book one.” Ryder grinned. “Good motivation for why he jumped in her pocket before she left for the trip.”

  “I’ll have to decide what they’ll see. It has to be appropriate for primary education children.”

  “I could help you with that.”

  “My mother has experience in education. Extensive experience. I was going to run it by her.”

  He was surprised to find that he was disappointed again. He wanted to continue to brainstorm with her.

  As if to end the discussion, Alexandra glanced around at the décor of the South Wing Dining Room. “This place is lovely.”

  “It’s one of my favorites. I like all the wood floors, tabletops, beams in the ceiling.”

  “And the long windows on both sides make it cheery.” Through them, the falling snow was visible today.

  “I’m fond of the chandeliers.” Nostalgia tinged his voice. “My sisters frequent the place, too.” He watched her. “Speaking of sisters, you have a nickname. Lexy.”

  She blushed. “It’s more me.”

  “Should I call you that?”

  “No. I’d rather be Alexandra in my career.”

  “I like it better. And R.M. is Raven?”

  “Short for Ravenna.”

  A waiter approached the table. He grinned broadly at her. “The Mediterranean Salad.” When he placed hers in front of her, he said, “A woman after my own heart.”

  After serving Ryder his BLT, he asked Alexandra specifically if he could get her anything else.

  When he left, Ryder shook his head. “I imagine all men flirt with you like that.”

  “I suppose. I don’t notice much.”

  She didn’t seem to have a vain bone in her body. No other woman he knew was like that. “You are something else.”

  At the compliment, she lowered her gaze and attacked the salad. Conversation was sporadic as they ate their lunches. Ryder finished first and scanned the room again. “Ha! What a coincidence.”

  She patted her mouth with a napkin. “Excuse me?”

  “One of my sisters is here.”

  “Do you want to go say hello?”

  “No.” He took out his phone. “I’ll text her. Whichever one of us leaves first will stop by the other’s table.”

  Soon, his phone pinged back. “They just got their meals.”

  While Alexandra finished hers, Ryder studied her. She was absolutely lovely today, with her hair back in some kind of braid and knotted at her neck. Her eyes were wide and luminous in her face. The red blouse she wore with a gray and red wool jacket and skirt highlighted the color in her face and accented her high cheekbones.

  After ordering coffee, they were chatting easily when Suzanne approached the table. “Hello, little brother.”

  Ryder stood and kissed her on the cheek. “Good to see you. Suzanne Reynolds, Alexandra Marcello.”

  “Ah, Ryder’s new author. Congratulations on the sale of your book.”

  “Thank you.”

  Suzanne addressed her brother. “I have a meeting in ten. I can’t stay and chat. Call me for lunch, Ry. I hope I see more of you, Alexandra.” And she was off.

  When Ryder sat again, Alexandra raised her brows. “Seems like you have a nickname, too. Ry?”

  “Used only by them.”

  Alexandra gestured to the path Suzanne took. “She’s a whirlwind.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled indulgently. “She looks like a Barbie doll, but is a successful business woman.”

  “A Barbie doll?”

  “You know, blond, blue-eyed...voluptuous.”

  “I don’t know about those dolls.”

  “Seriously? Then you must be from somewhere exotic.”

  “No, not that. So what does your sister do?”

  “She’s a venture capitalist.” At Alexandra’s questioning expression, he explained, “Her company invests in other companies that need capital.”

  “Interesting. She didn’t join the family business?”

  “No. None of the girls did. Long story why.”

  They talked more about Pickles, then Ryder paid the check, he helped her with her coat and they walked outdoors into what had become a nasty February afternoon. The snow that had been coming down in light puffs had turned wet and heavy. She held out her gloved hand. “This is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “The change in the snow.”

  “Not to me. We’ll have more trouble getting a cab. I can call our car. Or an Uber.”

  “Let’s at least try for a cab so we don’t have to wait.”

  They walked to the corner. Ryder said, “Stay here” and stepped out into the street, hand up to hail a cab. The slush at his feet made him glad he’d worn boots, but his coat was too light. He should have...”

  Suddenly, he was pushed to the side of the road.

  Arms clamped around him from behind, unbalancing him.

  He went down hard in the slush and tasted the sour mush.

  What the hell? He raised up. Alexandra lay next to him, covered with wet slush practically from head to toe. She’d tackled him?

  Then he realized she wasn’t moving.

  Chapter 6

  “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” Ryder asked as Lexy preceded him into the mud room of his condo. He’d been solicitous on the entire ride over here.

  “I’m sure. Do you? We could go if you’re more hurt than you told the first responders.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I went down in the slush. You banged your head on the curb and blacked out.”

  She touched the back of her head. “Only for a few seconds. And the skin here didn’t even break open. We were both checked by medics.”

  “I guess. Let’s get out of these clothes.” He grasped the shoulders of her coat and she shrugged out of the arms; the action made the soreness in her body evident.

  He held up the wrap which resembled a modern art painting with the white background and patches of color all over it. Her mother had bought it for her on a trip to Belgium. Now, it was covered in slush. “I’m sorry about all this.”

  “It’s only a coat, Ryder. If the cleaners can’t get the dirt out, so be it.”

  He hung up their outerwear, then they both sat on the bench to remove their boots.

  “I could have gone back to the hotel,” she said as she unzipped her Nicholas Kirkland boots. She hoped they weren’t ruined, though she noticed one of the pearls on the right heel was missing.

  “The medics said you had to be observed for a concussion.” He cocked his head, sending some blond hair into his face. “Do you know anybody else in New York, Alexandra?”

  “My agent.”

  “That settles it. You’ll stay here for a few hours to make sure you’re all right.” They stood, and he led her to the living room. “Sit.” He gestured to the couch.

  “My skirt and sweater are wet.” Gesturing to his shirt and pants, she added, “So are your clothes.”

  “We’ll have to change.” He captured her gaze. She felt like a prisoner of it. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see the car coming at me.”

  “How could you? The snow was blinding and you were hailing a cab. The car came from behind you.”

  Ryder swallowed hard. “You jumped into its path and pushed me to the side, risking your own safety.”

  “I had to get you out of harm’s way.”

  “And you did. To your detriment.” He skimmed the side of her face with his knuckles, then touched her hair. Her heart picked up speed. “You have slush even here.”

  “Now that’s the worst part.” She was only half-joking. The Gentileschi sisters loved their long locks, but shampooing and especially drying the heavy mass was a chore.

  “Be careful of the bump on your head. You can dry your hair in front of the fire.” He didn’t take his hand away. “Who knows what the consequences could have been if you hadn’t acted, Alexandra.”

  She shivered. “I was so frightene
d for you.”

  “Yet you dove right in.”

  Her action had been spontaneous, an instinct to prevent harm to someone. “You would have done the same if our positions had been reversed.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Then no more talk about what I did.” Her gaze dropped. “But I do have to clean up.”

  He took her hand. “I’ll show you to the spare room. My sisters use it, and some of their things are in the closet and drawers. They’re all different sizes, so something should fit you.”

  Alexandra stepped inside the room, which was tiny compared to the guest suites in the palace. After closing the door, she headed to the bath off it and studied her face in the mirror. She had a quick flash of the car barreling toward Ryder, and felt the deep and slicing fear for him she’d had on the street. “Stop,” she told herself. “You averted a tragedy.”

  Despite her self-admonishment, her hands trembled as she turned on the shower. While it heated up, she unpinned her hair. Inside, under only a warm spray, in deference to her bruise, she gently washed her hair.

  Then she had another quick flash of the car again, and Ryder in its path. Oh, God. She braced her arms on the wall of the stall, put her head in between them and cried.

  * * *

  After his shower, Ryder donned a pair of jeans and a sweater, then prowled around the condo waiting for Alexandra to finish cleaning up. Emotion roiled inside him. What would he have done if she’d been hurt worse trying to save him? He’d never been in this situation before, and didn’t know what to do with all the conflict he felt: gratitude, anger at her endangering her own well-being, admiration and frustration. The afternoon was supposed to consist of a simple lunch with an author.

  “Hi.”

  He turned to face her. She wore one of the girls’ sweat suits and it fit her nicely. But that wasn’t what made his jaw drop. Her hair was out of the knot she always wore and falling past her breasts to her waist. “My God!”

  Her brow furrowed. “Did I choose the wrong thing to wear?”

  As if compelled by an outside force, he crossed to her and drew a thick damp lock between his fingers. “You’ve always worn your hair back or up. I had no idea...it’s so long and thick.”

  “Yeah, and when it dries, it’ll be wavy.”

  “It’s stunning.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stood back and frowned. “Alexandra, you look like the princess in your book.”

  A delicate shoulder lifted. “Maybe a little. I’d like something warm to drink if that’s okay.”

  He had to tear his gaze away from her. “Tea or hot chocolate?”

  “Hot chocolate.”

  “Why don’t you sit down by the fire? For all that hair to dry.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  He grinned. “You’re cute in the red sweat suit, by the way.”

  “The what?”

  “The girls’ fleece. Top and pants bottom.” It couldn’t be. “Don’t you own a sweat suit?”

  “No. I have yoga and workout clothes that match, but nothing this heavy and warm.”

  After she was situated, Ryder went to the kitchen shaking his head. What kind of childhood had she had that she didn’t wear sweat suits or have Barbie dolls?

  * * *

  “Maurice Sendek, of course.”

  “No, Robert Munch.”

  “Margaret Wise Brown.”

  “I love Goodnight Moon.”

  “Everybody does. Keep going.”

  Lexy was thoughtful “Shel Silverstein.”

  The game continued until they ran out of their favorite children’s books authors. Sitting in front of the fire, they’d been chatting easily, soothed by the glow and the heat.

  “You’re going to be right up there with all of them, Alexandra.”

  “I’m not aiming that high. But I do hope people like Pickles.”

  “How could they not?”

  A delicate shrug. “You never know.”

  He sipped some wine, but Lexy stayed with the hot chocolate. She was showing no signs of a concussion. “I think I can leave now, Ryder.” She’d said that a few times.

  “Aren’t you having fun?”

  She was having fun. Too much fun. In the firelight, the golden strands in his hair shone through the tawny ones and framed his gorgeous eyes. His navy sweater highlighted their color, as well as showed off his long lean body.

  She had to leave.

  “Tell you what? Let me cook you dinner, then you can go home.”

  “You cook?”

  He gave her an askance look. “I have three older sisters. Our mother insisted we all learn our way around the kitchen. My specialty is Pasta Puttanesca.”

  The dish had a myriad of flavors: garlic, anchovies, red pepper flakes. “Mmm. I love anchovies and capers.”

  He arched a brow.

  Don’t stay. “All right. I’ll stay.” She started to get up from the couch, where he’d insisted she stretch out after her hair had dried some.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want to help.”

  “I suppose you can make the salad.”

  She preceded him into a state-of-the-art kitchen. Her pulse sped up, because she could feel warmth emanate from him behind her. She wanted to stop, to lean back against him.

  Her conscience told her she was making a mistake. Her sisters would have a fit if they knew she spent this cozy time with him. But she wanted to be here a little longer, so she blanked her mind of all the reasons why she shouldn’t.

  When they finished eating, Ryder watched Alexandra put down her fork and pat her tummy. “I’m impressed. The pasta was wonderful.”

  “High praise from a born and bred Italian.”

  “Who said I’m Italian?” She sounded like she was flirting with him.

  “Once, you spoke Italian words. I have ice cream for dessert.”

  “I can’t. I’m too full.”

  He said, “What now?”

  “Let’s clean up then I need to leave.”

  Reluctantly, he agreed to letting her help cleanup but only so she’d stay longer, so he could smell the fresh scent of her. He told her stories about helping his sisters do the task. When she didn’t respond, he asked, “What about you? Did your sisters let you in on kitchen duty?”

  An expression of consternation was flitted across her face. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  “Which you won’t tell me.” That he was frustrated by her secrecy didn’t make sense to him. But it was there and grew every day he was in her presence.

  “I’m sorry, Ryder.”

  When the cleanup was complete, he called for the company car and crossed to the mudroom. “One of my sisters’ winter coats should fit you.”

  She slid into her boots as he took a parka from a hanger and she frowned. “I shouldn’t wear that. It belongs to someone else.”

  “Hush. Turn around.”

  After hesitating, she gave him her back and he held up the coat. But he dropped it to the bench off to the side and circled her back around to face him. There were questions in her eyes, but something else sparked there too. Something that spoke to his heart. So he pulled her to him.

  She let him. She went easily, as if they’d done this before. His arms banded at her waist. Hers went around his, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

  Ryder was besieged by the feel of her body aligned with his. By how their legs entangled. She let herself melt into him, then sighed. She gripped his neck.

  A shot of desire zinged through him.

  His hands found her hips, her bottom, and squeezed. Even through the fleece, he could feel her toned muscles, the suppleness of her. She clung to him. He buried his face in her neck, in skin softer than a duck’s down. His lips tasted the sweetness there. They held each other, just like that, for a long time.

  And God knew what they would have done next if his phone hadn’t buzzed.

  They sprang apart li
ke illicit lovers. Her face was flushed and his felt hot. Her eyes widened. The phone kept buzzing. He finally checked it. “T-the driver’s here.”

  As if to escape him, and maybe herself, she yanked herself away and opened the door. She literally ran out of his house. Away from him. Away from them and what they might have done together.

  “Fuck,” he said aloud, but didn’t go after her. He called his driver before she could even get to the car. “She doesn’t have a coat on. Keep the heat high. And see her inside the hotel, please.”

  “Of course, Mr. Reynolds. Anything else?”

  “No.” Ryder had clearly said enough, done enough for one evening.

  Chapter 7

  The day after escaping Ryder’s condo in a panic, Lexy left town to go to her sister’s house in D.C. She’d let Brie baby her because she’d had a hell of a headache for two days and seemed to be sore all over. Now, she sat in the back of Brie’s classroom with her sister, waiting for the kids to return from physical education.

  “You sure you’re up for this, Lexy?”

  “I am. I rested for a few days. I’m more than fine.”

  “Well, you did take it easy. But I saw you writing in your notebook. A lot.”

  “I was only making notes for the next two books. Nothing strenuous.”

  A sea of children rushed through the door. One was holding the hand of an adult. “See, Mr. Federico, she’s here.” The boy pointed to the back of the room.

  Beside her, Brie stiffened.

  “I see she’s here.” The man approached them. He sported dark hair, a little longish, and almost onyx eyes. Since he was dressed in fleece pants and a T-shirt, Alexandra presumed he was the gym teacher. Nodding to Brie, he focused on Lexy. “Hi, there. I’m Dante Federico. You must be the children’s book author.”

  Brie scowled. “How do you know about my sister?”

  Dark eyebrows raised. “She’s your sister? The kids couldn’t stop buzzing about a lady coming in, but I didn’t know she was related to you.”

  Rising to her feet, Lexy smiled at him. “You’re Italian, so you must be okay.” Her hand on Brie’s shoulder, she confessed, “So are we.”