by P. G. Forte
A little embarrassed by how relieved he felt about that, he stood up and placed the box on the mantle. “C’mere a minute. You look like you could use a hug.”
She also looked like she wanted to resist, but she didn’t. She came into his arms and he held her close, rubbing his hands along her back as he tried to melt some of the tension in her spine. He longed to tell her that it would be all right, but he couldn’t do it. The words would be meaningless and false, and he was already lying to her about enough other stuff.
He felt panic build inside him and it took him a moment to identify the cause. She needed him. Despite the suffocating pressure in his chest, he was determined not to let that scare him away.
He could do this. He could stay with her tonight – the way he had the night her dog died – and they would get through this together. He searched his brain for something he could do or say to make her feel better. “Why don’t we go out and get some dinner, okay? Maybe you’ll feel better if you—”
“I don’t think so, Ryan.” Her voice sounded muffled against his chest. “It’s been an upsetting day and I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good company tonight. Maybe you should just go on home.”
Thank you, God. He sighed with relief at the unexpected reprieve. Good, then. He’d go home. Nuke a frozen dinner. Spend a couple of hours working out. Maybe watch some TV.
And then tomorrow— hey, he could always stop at the market on his way over and pick up some flowers for her. That would be a nice gesture. She’d have to like that, wouldn’t she? He thought about the cold, pinched look on her face, and he felt his heart sink again. Nice gesture or not, flowers tomorrow weren’t gonna do squat for her right now. He couldn’t leave her alone tonight. No matter how badly he might want to at the moment.
He took a deep breath and offered, “Maybe you should come home with me.”
An angry sounding laugh escaped her. “Oh, yeah, there’s another swell idea.”
Okay, that hurt. He forced his hands to continue their rhythmic motions, while he fought the urge to say good night and walk away. God damn it, he was doing the best he could here. As hard as it was, he could use a little help. He did not need a guilt trip laid on him, on top of it. He’d suspected all along that she blamed him for her dog’s death, despite everything she’d said to the contrary. But... well, it was a good idea, just the same.
He thought about the last time she’d spent the night at his apartment. She’d needed him then, too. But that kind of need was different. That was something he could handle. And handle well.
“Yeah. Why not, huh? You enjoyed yourself the last time you dropped by, didn’t you? The night of the dance?” He kissed her head where it lay on his shoulder and then rested his cheek against her hair, smiling as he thought about it. It was a damn good idea, in fact. He’d take her away from here. Away from the cold and the dark and the grief she was obviously feeling. Take her back to his apartment, where it was bright and warm. Where all her memories were good ones.
And where he could spend the rest of the evening making new memories with her, erasing the blankness in her eyes, taking the pain away. Then, when she was sated and spent, when he’d made good and sure she was too tired to run from him again, maybe then he could finally find a way to tell her that he loved her.
She glanced at him, a startled expression on her face. He smiled at her surprise, cupping her face in his hand as he rubbed his thumb over her lips. Lips that would soon be swollen from his kisses. “Come on,” he teased. “Come back to my crib and hang with me awhile. We’ll have some fun. You know, if you ask nicely I could maybe let you play with my handcuffs. If you’re real good, I might even let you handle my gun.”
“Huh.” She looked away again, and for a moment he worried that maybe he’d misplayed his hand. He’d only wanted to keep things light between them, after all, But “Fine,” she said, after a moment, blinking furiously as a little of the starch went out of her backbone and she sagged against him. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“That’s what I want to do, all right,” he said as he gathered her against his chest, relaxing for the first time since he’d walked in the door. Obviously it was what she wanted, too. Why else would she be blinking back tears of relief?
* * * *
By the time they got to Ryan’s apartment Siobhan was seething with resentment. She stalked through the door and ignoring his offer of a drink, went directly to the fireplace and switched on the gas.
She couldn’t believe they were here tonight. Couldn’t believe he’d suggested this – now, of all times! And, almost, couldn’t believe she’d said yes.
Sex. Was that really all he cared about? All he thought about? All he wanted from her?
It certainly seemed to be the case. With a muted whoosh the gas ignited, blue and yellow flames leapt up. Cool little flames that would never consume the fireproof logs. She thought about the fire that had burned in her own hearth, warm and red and real. A fire that raged and crackled and burned up anything she fed it. Too bad she couldn’t feed it her own traitorous heart. Or, better yet – his.
When she said she loved him he asked her for a blanket.
When she told him she was unhappy he suggested sex. And handcuffs, of all things!
And a gun.
Which she just might have to use on him if he continued to act like such an almighty, goddamned jerk. No jury in the world would convict her for killing him – not if there was even one woman on it.
Hard to believe that he could be so shallow, but there it was. Indisputable proof that, as far as Ryan was concerned, there was nothing of any real depth between them.
Which suited her fine.
Because if that was all he wanted, if that’s all he thought they had between them, then, damn it, that’s just what he’d get from her tonight. That and not a single thing more. It was all she should have ever given him, anyway. She’d been crazy for imagining herself in love with him. Or for thinking, for one single moment, that he could ever love her, too.
For just an instant her heart protested that he did love her – he must! But she pushed the idea aside. What did she know about love, after all? Hadn’t she always been mistaken before?
She should have seen him for what he was weeks ago. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be feeling so miserable right now.
“So, are you hungry? I was thinking I could order us a pizza or something. How’s that sound?” His hands were warm on her shoulders and she shrugged them away, bending to warm her hands at the fireplace, instead. As if those weak flames ever could. Ten days ago she’d lain here with him. She knew now that the heat that had blazed through her that night – and almost every night since then – hadn’t come from the fireplace. It had come from her. From him. From everything they’d felt for one another.
Things which, apparently, he’d never really felt at all.
Things she hadn’t ever wanted to feel again.
“Siobhan?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“Well, what would you like on it?” he asked, his voice a little more subdued than before.
Arsenic. Wild mushrooms. Raw blowfish. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”
“Okay, well... are you sure you don’t want something to drink while we’re waiting? I could open a bottle of wine, if you’d like. Or maybe you want a beer?”
She tamped down the urge to tell him what he could do with his beer. She didn’t really want to fight with him tonight. She needed a little warmth, a little tenderness. Or maybe she just wanted company.
She sank down onto the hearthrug and slipped off her shoes. She looked up at him, wearily. “If you’re having some wine I guess you could pour me a glass, too. Or a beer, or some water, or nothing. I don’t really care, Ryan. I mean... that’s not what you brought me here for, is it?”
“Brought you here?” Ryan looked at her in surprise. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. It wasn’t all they’d come here for, no. At least he hoped it w
asn’t. But it had been a long day, and he was hungry and he’d figured she’d expect some kind of dinner before he jumped her bones.
What was going on in her head now, he wondered as he lowered himself to sit beside her. Hell, he knew she was upset, but she’d been altogether too quiet on the way over here. And now this, as loaded a question as any he’d ever heard. One he was almost sure to answer incorrectly. Just like he always seemed to do. Shit.
He rested his arms on his upraised knees and looked at her. “So, what is it you think I brought you here for?”
A faint smile twisted her lips. She looked at the floor and for a moment he didn’t think she was going to answer. “I thought it was because you wanted to have sex.”
He smiled back at her. “Well, yeah. I figured we both wanted that. But you know, it’s certainly not the only reason.”
She raised her head swiftly to meet his eyes, and he felt his smile disappear as his gaze locked with hers. Dread tightened in his chest again. God knew he loved her, but how could he ever hope to survive the ferocious need that burned there?
“What other reasons?” she asked, her voice a thin thread of a sound. Mild as it was, it still sounded like a demand.
“Well, uh, you know, like um... dinner, for example,” he stammered. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Abruptly the fire went out of her eyes. She sighed. “I keep telling you I’m not.”
“Okay, well, if you don’t want to eat,” he started to say, but the bleak unhappiness in her face stopped him. Damn it, all this talking was getting them nowhere. Leaning toward her he kissed her instead, tightening his grasp on her shoulder as he felt her start to pull away, sliding his other hand up to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Gradually wrapping his arms around her as he attempted to pull her closer.
Without warning, she wrenched herself away. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tinged with anger.
He looked at her in surprise. “It wasn’t obvious?”
She said nothing, and after a moment he continued.
“Look, I know you’re upset about your dog and I... I just want to make you feel good.”
“And this is what you think will make me feel good?”
He blew out a deep breath and ran one hand through his hair. Yep, he was screwing things up, all right, just like he figured. “Look, I told you I’m not a mind reader. Is there something else you want to do tonight?”
She looked at him for a long, long moment. And then she shook her head. “No, Ryan, of course not. What other reason could I possibly have for being here with you?”
He felt the breath leave his lungs and for an instant white rage consumed him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew she wasn’t in love, But Jesus Christ, was that really all the use she had for him? “Oh, yeah? So how come you’re still dressed? C’mon, hurry and take your clothes off and we’ll get busy.” The instant the words left his mouth he knew it was a mistake. Color flooded her cheeks and her eyes went dead.
He reached for her, but she was already on her feet and backing away from him. “God, Ryan, can’t you at least wait until we get to the bedroom?” she said as she turned on her heel and fled down the hallway.
He stared after her in dismay – not sure whether to feel grateful or not for the fact that it was his bedroom she was headed for, rather than the front door. He’d heard it said that you didn’t really remember pain once it was over, but he wasn’t sure he believed that. He thought he had a pretty good recall of how it felt to get shot. It didn’t begin to compare with the way he was feeling now.
He’d been with plenty of women who’d wanted him for nothing more than a roll in the hay, and that had never really been a problem for him. He hadn’t wanted a whole lot more from most of them, either. And in the process, they’d taught him a lot.
But this time was different. He wanted everything from Siobhan: her body, her soul and a lifetime claim on her heart.
And that looked like it could be a big problem. ‘Cause from where he was sitting, it looked like what he wanted, and what she was willing to give him were light-years apart.
Back to Top
* * * *
Chapter Twenty Five
* * * *
Siobhan practically tore her shirt getting it over her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this angry. So, this was what he wanted now, was it? Not just sex, but cheap, meaningless sex? Well, fine, then. She’d had plenty of meaningless sex – years of it, in fact. And if that was what he wanted, then that’s what they’d have. Except... it wouldn’t really be meaningless, would it? Not for her.
Somehow, that only made it worse.
Her hands stilled on the button of her jeans. Why did it have to be like this? What was she doing here, anyway? Why not just salvage what she could of her pride and her self-respect and get the hell out of here right this minute?
But she knew why not. She could deny it all she wanted, but that wouldn’t change the truth. Like it or not, she was in love with him. And locked in his arms was the only place she wanted to spend tonight, no matter how little it might mean to him.
And it couldn’t mean much, could it? She’d given him plenty of opportunities to tell her otherwise, to admit that there was more between them than sex and food and friendship. He’d ignored every one.
It would be easy to pretend that he was simply incapable of loving anyone, but she knew better. It might not be today and it might never be with her, but someday he would fall in love. He was far too loving a person not to. For all his rough edges, for all the pig-headed insensitivity that made her want to brain him occasionally, he was still one of the best men she’d ever known.
He was solid and dependable – gentle in ways he probably didn’t even realize he was capable of being – and so damn tender at times that it brought tears to her eyes. She only hoped that, if she had to let him go to someone else, it would at least be to someone who’d appreciate that about him. Who’d see how wonderful he was, how special. Someone who could give him all the love and the happiness he deserved.
In the meantime, screw pride and self-respect. She’d take whatever she could get, whatever he was willing to give her.
She heard the door open and close quietly behind her, and her heart began to beat wildly. She had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing. Had to force herself to stand still and not turn around, not throw herself at him and beg him to love her.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, one across her chest, the other at her waist, and pulled her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice was low, dark—like the echo of thunder from miles away. She shivered at the sound of it, and at the feel of his skin, warm against her own. Turning, she wrapped her own arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt as tears stung her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Siobhan. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I swear. I was just—”
“No.” She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need. Really.”
“Well— No, I think there is,” he muttered, sounding very unhappy. “Because-”
“No,” she repeated. “I mean it, Ryan. Forget about it. I learned a long time ago not to feel ashamed of my sex drive. Or embarrassed. And you shouldn’t either. Things like that... well, they are what they are. That’s all. You can’t change them. There’s a lot about ourselves that we can’t change, no matter how much we might want to. Like what you feel, or don’t feel, for another person. So there’s no point in being sorry about it.”
He sighed, and she could feel his whole body tense. His arms felt like bands of steel encircling her. “Look, Siobhan, about the way I feel—”
But she didn’t want to hear about that again. Couldn’t bear for him to tell her once more how, although he cared for her, he didn’t want there to be any pressure. Couldn’t stand the thought of being stripped of all her illusions in one night. Or of having to lie to him again, telling him that she felt the same way, when
what she really wanted—
She tightened her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t have what she really wanted, so there was no point in even thinking about it. “Please, Ryan, don’t! Can’t we just please, please, stop talking now?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “Yes. If that’s really what you want. You know I’ll do anything you want, Siobhan. Don’t you?”
She raised her head to gape at him, barely able to contain the hysterical laughter that bubbled up inside her. Would he really? Oh, dear God, if he only knew what he was saying! “And you think you know me well enough to know what I want? Is that what you’re saying?”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t say that. But—”
She felt her smile grow wider. “Then you can’t possibly promise it to me, can you?”
“Siobhan, I only meant—”
She put her fingers to his lips. “Stop. We’ve been doing really good so far. Don’t mess things up now by making promises you don’t intend to keep. Besides,” she said, as she drew him towards the bed, “You know what I want right at this moment? I want you to make me feel good, Ryan. Just like you said you would.” She sank down onto the mattress and pulled him down on top of her. “You think you can do that for me? Hmm?”
He looked at her, his eyes burning into hers with so intense an expression she felt her heart begin to pound. Suddenly she didn’t know what to expect. Her breath stuck in her chest and she felt herself shrink away from him when he leaned in closer. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her still. Then he kissed her. Softly. Slowly. Deeply. A kiss that seemed to go on forever. A kiss of such hot, melting sweetness that she lost all of the nervousness that had seized her, along with what was left of her breath.
When he finally raised his head, he was smiling. A small smile that hinted at a sadness she couldn’t comprehend and didn’t have time to wonder about. “Yes, Siobhan. I can do that.” Lowering his head, he kissed her again. Harder this time. Deeper. A dark, demanding kiss that just bordered on roughness and commanded every last bit of her attention.
