by Lynda Aicher
And he refused to be vulnerable. The unspoken ending defined him so clearly.
She bit her tongue to hold back the sympathy welling in her chest. Yet her heart ached for the boy who’d had to figure that out and the man who still believed it. “How old were you when you learned that?”
“Eleven.” No hesitation. No emotion. Nothing.
The music kicked up, and he grabbed her hand. “Come on.” He set his glass on a table and did the same with hers.
“Where are we going?” she asked, allowing him to draw her along. Their conversation was done, and she wouldn’t continue to push, yet she’d still wonder. What had happened? Would he ever tell her?
She saw the man Ryan was, pitfalls, walls and all, and she still wanted him. The last week of being just Burns and Wakeford had shown that she could do this. She could remain professional at work and have a personal relationship with him.
He was her boss, but he was also just a man.
Brie smiled at a group of people tracking their path across the terrace. She’d been introduced earlier, but their names had been lost beneath the mass of introductions. Her mother would’ve been so disappointed in her.
And what about herself? How did she feel?
She caught the eye of an attorney she recognized from another law firm. This man didn’t even attempt to crack a smile as he studied her, calculation marching over his expression. She tightened her hold on Ryan’s hand, meeting the man’s challenge with a strength of her own. The Bay Area might be huge, but the legal community was very intertwined.
Her inner battle sprang to life in a crash of fear and want. Her Brighton instincts urged her to push Ryan away before her mother heard about him or her professional reputation was ruined. But the stronger, awaking Brie desires had her hand tightening around his.
Tongues would wag after tonight, but one thing she would never be was a secret. Her personal pride overruled her work pride on that point.
Her career had been her priority since she’d left home, but now, with Ryan, she had a chance at something that was growing to be just as important, if not more. And it had nothing to do with her mother.
Ryan spun around at the edge of the small dance area. She gasped, smiling when he drew her into his arms. “Dance with me.”
He didn’t give her a choice and she didn’t object. Why would she? “I didn’t know you danced.” He fell into an easy two-step with a grace that didn’t surprise her.
“You know me better than that,” he murmured. He tucked her close, his hand holding hers, the other possessive on her lower back.
Her soft laugh was one of understanding and acceptance. “I do.” She really did. Knowing how to dance was an image requirement. One she was all too familiar with. She melted into him a little more, that empathy spreading until she imagined it wrapping around him in a protective embrace. “How’d you learn?”
“Classes.”
Of course. Her quiet laugh soothed the hurt she’d tried to ignore for the last week. Logic hadn’t stopped her doubts from dropping bombs each day. This was so right and wrong at once. And perfect in so many stunning ways.
“Me too.” Before her sweet-sixteen party. It hadn’t mattered to her mother that most of the boys had only known how to shuffle back and forth.
Ryan did an easy step and turn that managed to draw her closer. Any premise of a respectable space between them was now gone. She was fully aware that he was making a declaration, both to her and his peers.
This was personal.
She could object, ask more questions.
She didn’t.
Worry fanned a small breeze through her chest before she let it go. He’d only push back, shut down, and she didn’t want to lose this right here.
The blindfold was gone. Her eyes were open, and Brie wanted this. Him. The passion and the ice. The quiet and the frantic. The distance and the impossible closeness.
She closed her eyes and blocked the stares from reaching her. They still prickled over her nape and slithered down her spine with their intrusive power. But she was safe here, within his arms. His strength held her strong when the impropriety threatened to weaken her. He had her, both in and out of the Boardroom.
“There’ll be talk,” she murmured. She breathed him in. His scent eased the tension and warmed her with knowledge, of who he was and who he could be.
“There will.” He squeezed her hand. “I won’t let it hurt you.”
His reassurance blended with her understanding to anchor her doubts. “You have a plan.” She didn’t leave it as a question.
His breath warmed her temple and soothed its way to her heart. “Company policy doesn’t prohibit this.”
This. She squeezed her eyes against the onslaught of dreams. Nope. Not yet. Not...yet. She forced a lightness to her voice. “This? As in dancing?”
“Dancing.” He made another smooth step-step-spin that freed a laugh from her. “Kissing.” His lips held on her temple in a press of intent that replaced her laugh with a choking ache of longing. It melted her heart and released her hope. He nudged his lips near her ear. “Fucking.” He nipped her earlobe. The sting raced to her core on a cry of want.
She sucked in a breath and locked down the express ride to love her heart was attempting to make. Dancing, kissing and fucking could happen without a hint of love in the mix.
The song changed. Couples departed the floor. Ryan kept dancing, and she moved with him, willing to follow where he led.
She looked up at him, her emotions swirling in a murky mix of unknown. He didn’t hide from her when she’d feared he would, especially here. His eyes burned with passion and softened with a tenderness reserved just for her. The knowledge sank into her heart and breathed of a freedom she never dared dream of.
He dipped her, halted. His breath ghosted over her lips, but his eyes never left hers. “Tell me no, Brie.”
Blood roared in her ears. Shivers spread from her heart to shimmer over her skin and flutter in her stomach. Her pulse jack-rabbited its doubts, but a quiet, sweet calm settled into her bones.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered.
Something flashed in his eyes that had her heart stuttering and her dreams singing. His lips touched hers, her eyes drifted closed and she let herself fall. Into his arms. His kiss. Him.
And he caught her. Claimed her.
The kiss was gentle, so soft she wanted to package it up and keep it with her. He made one small pass of his tongue over hers, another, before he withdrew.
She opened her eyes to find his. Understanding flowed between them on a current stronger than words. The very one that’d blazed in the Boardroom and bound them still.
She couldn’t define it, but she refused to fight it. Words weren’t needed when her heart spoke directly to his. The thought was foolish, reckless. Yet that was the only way she could describe it.
He led her from the dance floor, his arm wrapped around her. He nodded at everyone who met his gaze, and she let the tenderness spread into her smile. Happiness bubbled inside her to twist with an unspecified fear. At the unknown maybe? Or the risk? Or the awareness of the gigantic leap she’d just made?
They didn’t talk about the change. Not on the way back to his condo. Not as they climbed into bed. Not as he stared into her eyes and filled her. Not through the multiple times they came together over the night and into the next day.
And not when he dropped her off at her home with a tender kiss and no promise to call. But he did, that night.
It didn’t come up over lunch the next day or on their walk along the Embarcadero. Nope, it didn’t come up the entire weekend. He held her hand, kissed her roughly and just as tenderly, laughed at her stories and shared a few of his own.
And at some point between leaving the fund-raiser and heading back to work on Monday, that fear eased.
Chap
ter Twenty-Five
“I’m seeing Brighton Wakeford.”
Ryan met the stares Charles and Victor sent his way. He didn’t flinch or waver when the frowns formed or the scowls followed. He met each one with the same cool calm with which he greeted opposing counsel. Nerves didn’t sour his stomach and doubts never entered his thoughts.
Brie was a part of his life, and the weekend had confirmed that she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Not if he had any control over it. Doubts still raged right next to the fear that continued to laugh at him, but they didn’t alter his determination. He’d never let them before and he wouldn’t now.
Charles cleared his throat and Ryan cut him off before he could speak. “Company policy doesn’t prohibit employees from dating.”
“Don’t quote company policy at me,” Charles snapped. “Who do you think wrote it?”
Ryan hitched his brow. “HR?”
Victor barked out a laugh, pointed a finger at Ryan. “Good one.”
“Shut up,” Charles growled, sending Victor a glare.
“He’s right,” he said with a shrug. “You have to give him that.”
“No, I don’t.”
Ryan crossed his ankle over his knee, sitting back. The table situated in the corner of Charles’s office was littered with various notes and files they’d discussed, including the Palmaro case. He’d timed his bomb to land with the least possibility of prolonged fallout.
Victor eyed his longtime friend, shifted his gaze to Ryan. “Is this a new development?”
Ryan weighed his response. “Yes and no.”
“That is not an answer,” Charles objected. His years of litigation experience slammed down on Ryan with the vigor of a scorned lover. “Did you force her? Use your authority to manipulate her consent?”
Ryan shot forward, anger blazing. His snarl ripped over his throat to slam with force before Charles. “You will retract those insults.” He seethed and didn’t care if the other men saw. “I resent the implication to myself and Brie—Brighton.” He corrected his slip at the last second, but didn’t miss the narrowing of Victor’s eyes.
“Charles,” Victor said. The reprimand in his tone was one only he could give his friend. Charles jerked his glare to him, glowered for a long moment. He finally sat back with a tug on the edges of his suit jacket.
Victor turned back to Ryan. “I believe what Charles is trying to ascertain was if the reputation of this firm has been tarnished.”
Ryan forced himself to sit back, but he remained primed for attack. “I would hope that you know the answer to that without having to ask.” He’d followed every damn rule, overachieved every goal, and toed every fucking line they’d ever defined. And they had the gall to question him now?
“One can never be too sure.”
“And would I have said something to you if any of those things were possible?” Ryan countered.
“You could be forming a defense prior to the accusation,” Charles stated. Some of the anger had cooled from his tone, but his claws were still drawn.
So were Ryan’s. “Or I could be acting like a professional and informing my counterparts of a relationship instead of sneaking around like it’s a dirty secret.” He would never disrespect Brie that way.
A crisp knock blew through the strain. Ryan glared at the door, biting his tongue to hold back his irritation.
“What?” Charles barked, his voice edging back to a bellow.
Ryan sat up, his stomach clenching around the sudden shot of concern when Brie stepped into the room. The tension lacing through the room increased as she shut the door behind her and approached their table, stopping between Ryan and Victor.
She clasped her hands before her in a loose hold that didn’t match the sharp pull of her shoulders or the hard cut of her gaze. She scanned them, that cool professional smile in place.
“Gentlemen,” she said, looking to each of them equally. She didn’t linger on Ryan or show any sign of her purpose, but every instinct in him swore she wasn’t here to discuss a case. Especially since he’d told her of his intent to tell the partners about them during this meeting.
“I’m assuming you’ve already discussed the relationship between Mr. Burns and myself,” she continued. “If you haven’t, then I guess this is news. In either event, I hope you’ll have the courtesy to hear me out.”
“Brighton...” Charles’s tone held a warning that rankled Ryan’s need to defend. He glared at the man who was quickly losing his respect.
“Mr. Cummings,” Brie interrupted, her smile never faltering. “If I may? Please.” She sent that unwavering challenge at Charles and held her ground. That controlled mask was in place, her emotions shored up behind it.
She didn’t need Ryan to defend her. Nope. She clearly had this covered.
He relaxed on a slow wave of admiration he should’ve been used to when it came to her. He’d told her he’d handle this, but here she was, confronting the issue with grace.
“Yes, Ms. Wakeford,” Victor said, shooting Charles a cool look. “Please. Go ahead.”
Her single nod was short and efficient. “Thank you.” She glanced to him, her smile softening a touch before she refocused on the other men. Her hands lowered to her sides, and his eyes were drawn to the incremental run of her fingers over her thumb.
“As I was saying,” she went on. “Mr. Burns and I have engaged in a relationship that extends beyond professional. It is completely mutual. There was no implied threat or harassment, nor do I fear any from him.” She waited a beat, inhaled. “I do, however, understand if this creates unwanted complications within the office. Although I’ll have regrets doing so, if you’d prefer I resign, I will start sending out inquiries.”
“No.” Ryan thrust to a stand. “That won’t be necessary.” Ice formed in his veins as he dared the other men to override his assertion. Her declaration was unexpected and unwarranted. He’d leave before he let Brie sacrifice her job.
Her expression didn’t change through her entire monologue, but it wavered now. Not much, but he caught the doubt and worry in the instant before she locked it back. She was doing this for him.
And that shattered him.
Heat roared in that space in his chest that used to be cold and empty. It pounded its demands, and he refused to shut it down. No, he couldn’t shut it down. Not anymore.
No one spoke for a long moment. Charles’s glower churned between him and Brie, but his bluster had diminished.
Victor finally broke the standoff with a brisk clearing of his throat. He sat forward, folding his hands on the table as he scanned each of them. “There is no reason for anyone to depart the company.” He paused. “At least not yet.”
Ryan opened his mouth to object, but Victor cut him off. “And I see no reason for that to change if everyone,” he cut a glance to Charles, “remains professional.” No one spoke to counter that statement.
Ryan released a relieved breath, his shoulders lowering from their tense perch, but he didn’t relax.
Brie’s smile was gone, in its place was the cool distance he’d come to respect during their hours spent deposing potential witnesses. But he knew how expressive she could be. How her smile could light up her face, and her eyes could flash with heat.
Victor huffed a short laugh, a smile blooming. “Thank you both for informing us of the situation.” He turned his focus to Ryan. “I trust you’ll let HR know, to keep things aboveboard.”
He nodded. He’d planned to head there next.
“Charles,” Victor prodded. “Do you have anything to add?”
The other man simmered in his own frustration before heaving a sigh. “I’d hate to lose either one of you,” he finally admitted, the starchiness draining from him. “So please, keep it contained in the office.”
Brie nodded, a courteous “of course” coming out.
Ryan, how
ever, was done with the unearned reprimand. He let a sarcastic smile glide over his lips. “I have a sudden urge to turn into a hormonal teen and maul Ms. Wakeford over the boardroom table.”
Brie’s jaw dropped. Victor chuckled. Charles’s scowl returned.
Ryan scooped up his items from the table, tucked them under his arm. “But I believe I can restrain myself until after working hours.” He nodded to the men and escorted Brie from the room before he said something worse, like all the ways he planned to fuck her on that boardroom table soon.
If the two uptight men ever found out about the wild, dirty acts that’d been conducted on their precious cherrywood table, they’d both croak from heart attacks.
He stopped at the first free conference room, motioned for Brie to enter, and followed her in. Her giggle broke the second the door clicked shut. She slumped against the wall, her head tilted back to expose the long line of her throat.
He swallowed, his own laughter dying before it could fully form. She was so damn beautiful. The relief and shock glowed on her expression. This Brie took his breath away every damn time.
There’d been no hint of her professional cool all weekend. No pushing from her. No voiced concerns or unsaid expectations. They’d simply shifted into something deeper on a current so natural he barely understood it. Nothing in his life—nothing—had ever felt so right.
He should heed the warning for what it was. Something this good never lasted. Not for him.
She turned her head to shoot him a harmless glare. “I can’t believe you said that.”
He shrugged. “If they only knew...”
Her eyes widened before they dropped to a sultry promise that match the hushed tone of her voice. “Tell me, Mr. Burns. How many women have you ravished on that boardroom table?”
“None.” He slid his fingers down her jaw. Her brow hitched up to scream her doubt. He shook his head. “That I can remember,” he added. “Not after you.”
Her sarcastic snort shot out as she shoved him away, grinning. She straightened from the wall and smoothed a hand over her suit jacket, her head shaking the whole time. “I’m not fooled by your bluff.” She shot him a wink that took the heat from her words.
