Going All the Way (Kiss the Bride #1)

by Cynthia Cooke

  He looked around her model-perfect home. It didn’t look like it would accommodate children or pets, with its glass surfaces, sharp corners, and sparse, expensive designs. He set the bed down in the corner and thought of his place with its rental sofa, the bed and table, and the boxes he lived out of because it was so much easier than unpacking. The two of them were so different. She’d been there mere days and had already made this place a home. A place to stay. A place to settle into.

  Not something he wanted. Ever. He carried the food and water bowls into the kitchen along with a bag of Riley’s favorite chow. “What a spoiled dog you are,” he told Riley, who was stuck to Carrie’s side like glue.

  “Of course he’s spoiled. He should be, he deserves it.” She ruffled his head.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” she asked.

  “Why does he deserve it?”

  “Look at that face,” she announced. “Have you ever seen anything more adorable? Let’s go see what new toys you have.”

  Riley followed after her into the other room, completely smitten. Ryan could understand why, if he let himself be objective. She was a confident, warm woman who wasn’t afraid to take a challenge and face it head-on. Admirable traits. What’s more, she completely loved his dog. He was beginning to wonder if Celeste might have to fight her to get him back.

  He grinned. No. This was temporary. She was temporary. And both he and Riley would do well not to forget that. He followed after them. He’d stay for another minute and then he had to go. “Get the tug-of-war toy. All dogs love those.”

  Carrie took the toy out of the bag, and within seconds Riley had one end in his mouth, growling intensely as he tried to pull the toy away from her. She was laughing, and losing, her feet sliding across the hardwood floor. “Help!” she cried with a huge grin.

  “Oh, what the hell,” he said and joined her. He looped his hand through the pull next to hers and together they yanked. “We’re winning, Riley,”

  Losing ground and growling as he struggled to hold on, Riley’s paws slid across the hardwood floors. He finally let go, barking, his tail wagging fiercely and knocking a picture off the table. Ryan fell to the floor with a loud whoosh, Carrie fell on top of him. Instinctively, he circled his hands around her waist and smiled up at her. She looked down at him, her lips inches from his. Her brown eyes danced with playful surprise, a big smile on her face, her long, dark curls hanging down to tickle his cheek.

  Suddenly he wanted to kiss her, to lean forward and capture her lips with his. Wanted that more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. She was soft and curvy and smelled so damn good. His arms tightened, his hands splayed against her back. And from the way she was staring at him, her eyes wide and focused, she was thinking the same thing.

  Yes. Please. Now. He lifted his head, bringing his lips closer to hers—

  Riley barked.

  He froze and turned. The dog was staring at them expectantly, his big eyes watching their every move.

  “We won!” Carrie announced, and held the toy up high.

  Riley barked again, jumped on top of them, and grabbed the toy from her. Carrie laughed as the dog dropped to the ground, pinning it beneath both paws and chewing on it.

  “Looks like he won,” Ryan said.

  “Cheating!” Carrie called. She laughed and rolled off him. The moment was lost.

  Damn.

  Chapter Seven

  Carrie took a deep breath. She’d dodged a bullet. She’d come so close to kissing Ryan again. Close enough that she could almost taste it. Or him, rather. The fact that she couldn’t get their almost-closet-sex out of her mind didn’t help. It was all she saw when she closed her eyes at night. Every time she was near him, she lost herself in the blue-gray swirl of his eyes—they were as hypnotic as the Pacific on a cloudy day. He radiated energy and heat, and she just wanted to touch him, and be touched by him. To feel his hands on her skin, the taste of his lips on hers. She shook herself as warmth fluttered inside her, tightening her chest and stealing her breath.

  “What do you say we get a quick bite to eat? Sans Riley,” Ryan said, looking at the dog.

  Panic squeezed her. Now? When she wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms? And without Riley to save her weak judgment and wanton tendencies, at least where this man was concerned? No, that could be a recipe for disaster. “Won’t Riley be lonely here all by himself?” she asked, stalling.

  “I think he can handle one hour without us.”

  Us. There was a dangerous word.

  “I have a full night of work ahead of me, so it really can’t be any longer than that.”

  She shouldn’t push her luck, but her stomach was growling. “I really am too tired to cook. Who knew shopping with a dog could be so exhausting?”

  His eyes filled with pleasure. “Great. You’re saving me from another night of Chinese takeout. I know this great little Italian place down the street. We can even walk there.”

  That did sound enticing. Too enticing. “All right,” she relented and stared at him for a long moment, at the evening stubble darkening the strong lines of his jaw. She’d better be careful with this one. Take it slow. Keep the complications in her life to a minimum. Just enjoy his company. Enjoy his dog. Keep it simple, casual. Focus on achieving balance in her life, on her art, and finding her center. She could do that, no problem.

  And then he smiled, and her heart lurched in her chest. Oh, boy. She was doomed. She took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  “Are you sure it’s okay to leave Riley here?” she asked again: one last ditch effort. The dog did make for a great chaperone. And distraction. She looked at Riley, who was sound asleep in his new bed, snoring away.

  Ryan laughed. “I think he’ll be just fine.”

  Yeah, he would. She followed Ryan out the door, keeping her gaze squarely on the sidewalk and averted from his very nice-looking ass. She was way too attracted to this guy.

  “So tell me about yourself,” he said as they walked down the steep hill.

  Ah, the awkward small talk. “Not much to tell.”

  “That’s right, you like being a woman of mystery.”

  She shrugged, the corners of her lips lifting. “True. What about you? Have you been in San Francisco long?”

  “Not long. My job keeps me moving around a lot.”

  “Oh?” Did that mean he wouldn’t be there long? She was surprised by the pang of disappointment, which must be because of Riley. “Are you in the military?”

  “Hardly, though I do feel like I’m constantly dodging mortars. I’m a consultant. The go-to fixer guy when companies need help. My specialty is sales and marketing, though I’m on an advertising assignment that’s kicking my butt right now, but I’m determined to wrestle this account to the ground and kick its ass.”

  “I like your spirit.”

  “Never say die.”

  She had to admit, she liked that trait in a man. “So, you’re always moving from job to job, company to company, city to city?”

  “I am.”

  “That must be interesting.” She actually liked the sound of that. “How long do your assignments last?”

  “Sometimes a few months, sometimes a couple years. Depending on how much help the company needs.”

  “Complete control and autonomy.”

  “Yes, when it comes to picking the assignments. But once you’re on the job you have the same headaches as everyone else. The difference is once a project is done, you can move on to the next place. Some are definitely better than others.”

  “New challenges each time?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, and some bigger than others. The best part is always getting to meet and work with new people.”

  “I can see the appeal in that.”

  He looked surprised.

  She grinned. “What?”

  “I just got a lecture from my sister about putting down roots, making co
mmitments, staying in one place. In other words, getting a real life.”

  She scoffed. “What’s so great about that?”

  “That’s exactly what I said!” He laughed, and she liked the sound of it.

  “Here it is,” he said as they approached a small bistro with a clove of garlic painted on the door.

  “Is this new? I don’t remember this restaurant from the last time I was here,” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t know. I just moved in a couple months ago.”

  They walked into the small Italian restaurant and breathed deep the rich scent of garlic, tomato sauce and warm bread. “Smells heavenly,” she said as they sat at an intimate table by the window and ordered a bottle of wine.

  “So, you’ve lived here before, then?” he asked.

  “Yes, I went to college here. Got married. Started a company. Got divorced. Moved to New York and now I’m back.”

  “Wow, that’s a mouthful.”

  “Yes, it is. And too much in too short a period of time. I needed to take a step back and slow down. That’s why I’m here. I own my half of the duplex. When my renters moved out last month, I took it as a sign that it was time for me to come back home.”

  “You’re right, you’ve done a lot.” He looked like he wanted to say more, to ask more. But she didn’t want to delve into the mistakes of her past, and she prayed he would ask her about something else, anything else. “What did you do when you were in New York?” he asked instead, and she bit her lip.

  “Work. A lot of work,” she said evasively. “Now I need to find out what I want to do next.”

  “Ah, the elusive pursuit of happiness.”

  “Exactly.”

  His grin was charming and boyish and made her want to open up to him, to get closer. But she couldn’t go there, she reminded herself. A fun distraction was all he was going to be. All he could be. A nice night out with a new neighbor and friend. She wasn’t ready for anything more. Not after Stu had drained the life out of her. She’d given him and their company everything she had, and how did he thank her? By blaming her “workaholism” for his own cheating. Just the thought of it burned her up inside.

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” Ryan asked, seeming to read her thoughts.

  “What’s that?”

  “Discovering who Carrie is and what makes her tick.”

  She relaxed. “Not my job. Why don’t you tell me a little about you?”

  He grimaced. At that moment the waitress appeared with a basket of bread. They both quickly looked at the menu. Carrie set hers down and ordered a salad with grilled salmon, while he ordered the Chicken Piccata.

  “So New York?” he prompted, like a dog with a bone. “Great city. What did you do there?”

  “Worked for AdLogic, a marketing and advertising firm in Manhattan. The hours were long, with one project blending into the next. High-pressure presentations, demanding bosses, constant meetings. You know the drill.”

  “You have just described my life,” he said quietly.

  “Except I crashed and burned. Collapsed. Ordered to take it easy, take some time off and relax, so I decided to come home, paint, and focus on figuring out what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. In the meantime, I’m watching my new neighbor’s pretty awesome dog.” She would not think about New York or Stu or her old life. She was starting new.

  “Until I find him a doggy daycare,” he added with a grin.

  “Cheers to that.” They lifted their glasses and clinked, their eyes catching and holding. He was a such a good looking man, and intelligent, accomplished, funny… she shook herself and grabbed a piece of bread out of the basket, focusing on tearing it apart.

  “What was it about your job that got to you the most?” he asked, watching her pour out a smidgen of olive oil into her bread dish.

  “I don’t know if it was the deadlines, or the fact that I spent more time in meetings discussing those deadlines than I actually did doing what I enjoy—creating the art. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to dabbling with my paints and losing myself in the brushstrokes. It’s what I love to do, it’s what I used to do before I got involved in the corporate world.”

  “Have you considered doing the same thing from home on a freelance basis, where you sell the product, and not yourself?”

  “You mean like selling paintings?”

  “Art takes many forms. What is it about your art you love? How can you keep that and turn it into a way to make money?”

  She looked at him. “It’s an interesting thought.” Retaining artistic control was exactly what she’d wanted, needed. “I have to figure out what I want to do first, though.”

  “Are you going to open your own studio?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t gotten that far. Right now I’m just trying to find my center and reconnect with my friends.”

  “Ah, the wedding crashers.”

  She cringed with embarrassment. “Yes. Naomi is getting married, so we’ll have a lot to do with that. Lots of planning and preparations. Who knew wedding planning could be such a huge undertaking?”

  “I did.” He laughed. “My sister’s been planning her wedding since she was eight years old.”

  “Is she married?”

  “Not yet, but if she has anything to say about it, she will be soon.”

  “It sounds like you’re very close.”

  A smile lit his eyes. “We should be, we’re twins.”

  “Twins! Lucky you. I’m an only child.”

  “Sometimes she’s a pain, but I wouldn’t trade her for anyone in the world.”

  Damn, he was sweet, too. How could she not like a guy who loved his sister? This was a disaster in the making. Obviously there was something seriously wrong with him. Maybe he was a porn addict, or a cat kicker, or a compulsive liar. Or a cheater. There must be something wrong with him. No guy was this great. The question was, how much time did she want to invest with him to find out?

  At that moment their food arrived. “Yum,” she said, as she took a bite of her perfectly prepared fish. “So tell me more about your consulting company.”

  “My father and his brother started it about thirty years ago.”

  “A family business.”

  “Yep. It was very successful. Back then it was just a temp agency, but over the years it became more specialized. My uncle died, and then it was just my dad. He had high hopes that Celeste and I would take over the reins and run it together when we graduated college. But Celeste is more interested in her modeling.”

  “Sounds glamorous.”

  “Sometimes, I suppose. But that means all the pressure is on me. And on top of that now my dad wants to retire, so I need to choose. Do I want to continue taking on consulting jobs, or go back home and train to run the family business? That would mean a lot of extra pressure and more responsibility. My dad was very good at what he did. His shoes won’t be easy to fill.”

  “I have a feeling you’re very good at what you do.” In fact, she was pretty certain he was good at just about everything he did.

  “I like to think so. I’m afraid the head of this new account I’m working with right now might not agree with you. We’ve been working our asses off throwing one idea after another at this guy, and nothing makes him happy. It’s like he has some idea in his head of the perfect campaign and we just aren’t hitting the mark.”

  “I know all about uptight bosses. That’s why I got rid of mine.”

  “So since you know a little something about advertising… I could use a little extra artistic help.”

  She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.

  “Maybe another eye, another perspective…”

  Déjà vu hit her, and he was Stu all over again. Every discussion centered on his problems, his accounts, his jobs he couldn’t get right, and she’d always ride in to the rescue. Suddenly she’d find herself so sucked in she didn’t know who she was anymore. Or what she wanted. This was why she couldn�
�t be in a relationship right now. Him needing help with his dog, and sharing work stress, and wanting advice on an account—it piled up so fast. And if she kept giving herself away like this, she’d have nothing left. What was wrong with him became crystal clear. He was just like Stu and if she wasn’t careful, little by little he’d swallow her up, using her until nothing was left.

  “Sorry to hear that. You see, that’s why I paint. Much less stressful. In fact, we should get back. I’m afraid we’ve left Riley alone too long.”

  He looked disappointed and like he was ready to disagree, but in the end he only said: “You’re probably right. I should get back to that account.”

  …

  Ryan wasn’t ready for dinner to end. They’d been having such a good time. The food was excellent, the conversation was insightful, and the company…beautiful. He definitely wanted to get to know Carrie better. She had a depth that surprised him. She surprised him. She was warm, intelligent, and beautiful. Except one minute she was laughing, and the next he got the big chill. He went over the conversation in his mind but couldn’t see where it got off track. It was probably just as well; talking about the Costas account reminded him how much work he still had to get to that night.

  As they walked down the street, he longed to take her hand, to feel her warmth and softness, but she seemed cold and distant. So instead, he rambled, telling her about how his sister had fallen head over heels for a baseball player, and how as a result he himself was suddenly a pet owner.

  “Riley’s lucky to have you,” she said, warming back up.

  “Seems to me, Riley’s lucky you moved in next door. We both are.”

  She looked up and caught his eye, a smile hovering on her lips. He loved the way her curls framed her face. They tempted him to reach out and touch them, to pull them through his fingers, straightening them only to watch them bounce back. He shook himself as they walked up the drive. He stopped in front of her door and took a step toward her before he stopped himself.

  “Thanks again for taking care of Riley and joining me for dinner. It was a nice break.”

  She didn’t step back. In fact, she was leaning toward him. If he reached for her, if he slipped his hand around her waist, would she let him? Did he want her to? To see how far this could go? She wet her lips, and he stared at them, wondering if they would taste like the wine they had with dinner. Suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to find out.