If I Stay

by Tamara Morgan

  His meaning sank in almost immediately. Ryan wasn’t planning on becoming a permanent fixture in Ransom Creek, and was therefore unwilling to become one in her life. It made sense, explained why he kept himself so distant from the rest of the staff, gave her a way to preserve a solid sense of confidence in herself.

  And there was no mistaking that it was a considerate thing for a man to do for a change. He was like the anti-one-night-stand.

  But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

  She caught his eye and gentled her wobbling mouth into a smile. “How about I make a deal with you?”

  “What?” He turned a startled look her way. “What kind of a deal?”

  She had to laugh despite the fact that he’d just leveled her with his confession, leaving her flailing for a foothold. “It’s not a bad deal, I promise. I know I seem like the clingy, needy type, but I’m a lot stronger than most people give me credit for. Kissing and running away isn’t going to kill me.”

  He grunted in reply.

  “So I’ll give you that one in the car free of charge,” she continued. If noncommittal man sounds were all she was going to get out of him right now, she’d take them. “But the next time you kiss me, I won’t be so easy to push aside. Next time, I’m going to assume you mean it.”

  A tiny smile ghosted over his mouth. “That seems fair.”

  “Of course it is.” More than fair, if you asked her. “I’m exceptional at negotiating fair deal contracts with difficult people. One more bite of peas and you can have a cookie. Go down for a nap quietly and I’ll do the duck waddle race again.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s an insult somewhere in there?”

  She linked arms with him in a show of solidarity, as if to prove to them both that they could do this. Acquaintances, coworkers, friends. How hard could it possibly be?

  But she made the mistake of looking into his eyes and balked at the emotion she saw reflected there—emotion that seemed to want to throw her to the beach and ravish her in front of the seagulls. And the flex of his arm against hers proved he could do it, if only he’d give himself the chance.

  “It’s not an insult.” She forced a smile. “Just an observation.”

  She also observed her mom and Jake moving up the beach, several large bags of food in hand. She couldn’t decide whether she was more grateful or disappointed to see them heading their way.

  Not that it mattered. Gratefulness and disappointment wouldn’t do anything to move the man walking next to her. So they wouldn’t move her either.

  Chapter Ten

  “I heard you drove bitch on a date with Jake and Amy yesterday. That must’ve been one fun ride.”

  It was a good thing the date between Jake and Amy had been less of a romantic interlude for two and more of a family outing, or those two sentences would have had Ryan throwing a punch that wasn’t deserved—and probably receiving one that was. As it was, he could only muster up enough emotion to grimace at Alex, dressed head to toe in black, as he marched across the pavement to join him.

  The last thing he needed right now was to be reminded of yesterday’s torments. Ryan had actually looked Amy in the eye and said thanks but no thanks. He’d kissed her and torn himself away, had the audacity to tell her to her face that what she had to offer wasn’t nearly as good as the promise of his career again.

  Grimacing was all he had left.

  He and Alex stood outside Montluxe, the historic Hartford building that served as the prototype for the highest-end chain of Montgomery hotels, as well as the office home base. Quite a few days of the week found Ryan sitting by the marble posts and potted palms out front, waiting for his next command—or, if the stay was a lengthy one—chatting underground with the valet parking staff. They sometimes even let him park a few of the cars if things got busy.

  “What’s this?” Ryan cast an exaggerated look around in hopes of deflecting some of the attention from himself. “They let you off your chain today? Living it up in the big city?”

  “Very funny.” Alex nodded up to the top floor of the hotel—lucky thirteen. Unlike the rest of their facilities, the Montluxe line was all about exclusivity. No site was taller than thirteen floors and there was rarely a room to spare without a six-month’s advance reservation. Prestige paid well. “There’s a VIP meeting today. No expense spared. All I’m supposed to do is stand here and look pretty—which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you. What’s with the long face?”

  “I drove bitch for Jake and Amy yesterday.”

  Alex barked out a laugh. “Touché. What happened?”

  Ryan had no idea how to respond to that. Yesterday had to have been one of the best days he’d had in a long time—and also one of the worst. The highs of that wind-whipping drive over the Montgomery roads had been demolished by the lows of breaking a woman’s heart. The joy in getting that much closer to what he wanted was sullied by the realization that he’d never kiss Amy like that again.

  And to top it all off, guilt gnawed endlessly at his stomach, smelling of a rat.

  “Nothing happened. I drove to the beach. There was sand and food and volleyball. The usual.”

  “You have an odd definition of usual.”

  His glance was sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, man. I’m trying to pass the time. You’re in serious need of a day off. When was the last time you did something fun?”

  “I just spent almost a whole day at the beach.”

  “Okay, fine. When was the last time you did someone fun?”

  Ryan refused to answer that question on the grounds that it was irrelevant and depressing. Nodding up at the hotel, he asked, “Who’s the VIP, anyway? Someone I’d know?”

  “Probably. It’s a big-shot Hollywood type. I didn’t catch the name. Small dude. Pointy shoes. No hair—not even eyebrows.”

  Already strung on edge, Ryan’s nerves took a severe turn for the frayed. “Are you serious? Is his name Len?”

  “Maybe? I think they might be in negotiations for a movie location or something.” Alex shrugged. “Like I said, it’s not my business to know. I’m only here to smile and wave—or, you know, frown and look menacing. Which is basically the same thing to me.”

  If only Ryan’s job were that simple. Standing around looking pissed off seemed to be his default mode lately—and the idea that Len Brigand, one of the most influential producers in Hollywood, was sitting upstairs with Mr. Montgomery right now only set him off even more. So Mr. Montgomery hadn’t been bluffing. He really did have the right connections to hold up his end of the bargain.

  And Ryan had officially held up his end in return. He couldn’t stop hearing Amy’s words from yesterday, filling him with hope before leaving him flat. I’m not interested in him, Ryan. Not like that. I have feelings for someone else.

  That was pretty much all the proof he needed, wasn’t it? His obligation to Mr. Montgomery was filled. There was no reason he couldn’t ride up those elevators right this second and demand his payment. Intentionally or not, he’d officially pushed Jake out of the picture.

  But at what cost?

  “You know that guy or something? You look like he’s about to come out that door and steal your soul.”

  That was a strangely apt way to put it. Ryan leaned on the top of the car, wincing as the hot metal singed his arms. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean I can answer.” Alex’s tone left no room for doubt. He wasn’t bragging or showing off—not wearing the cocky fool’s cap that fit Jake so well. Just being honest. Not even torture would extract all of Alex’s secrets.

  Ryan tried anyway. “What kind of influence does Mr. Montgomery have on you to keep you working for him?”

  The flash that took Alex from friend to foe and back again
was so brief Ryan might have missed it, had he not been paying attention. But he was, and he knew a deep and sudden fear for his safety and the safety of everyone in a one-mile radius. It was a feeling he remembered having on a movie set once where he’d had to work around a male lion. The animal’s handler had warned them that for some people, there was an evolutionary reaction to a lion’s roar—that the simple sound of his rage would trigger a flight or fight response and mimic the physical sensations of extreme danger.

  Ryan had been one of the unlucky few. Every time that damn animal had roared—which, after three days of shooting, had been difficult to count—he’d felt the urge to point his car in the opposite direction and hit the gas.

  Alex’s silence felt a lot like that.

  “So you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, huh?” Alex eventually said.

  “What?”

  “You gonna be another conspiracy theorist? Been talking to Katie?”

  “Mr. Montgomery’s assistant?” Ryan frowned. “What does she have to do with anything?”

  Some of the sensation of danger ebbed away, and Ryan could only assume Alex was taking back his roar.

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Alex sighed and ran a hand over his shorn head. “I don’t want you bothering Katie with this, but she’s got a working theory—mind, she’s got paranoid theories on everything from sex slavery to the dairy industry, so she’s hardly a reliable source—but she seems to think that Mr. Montgomery only hires people to work in his home if he can blackmail them into complete subservience.”

  No surprise there. Mr. Montgomery had admitted as much that day in his office.

  “Well, of anyone, she’d know, wouldn’t she?” Ryan asked. “She has access to all the personnel files—and her dad’s been working for Mr. Montgomery longer than anyone.”

  Alex’s level stare did much to set Ryan’s adrenaline going again. “I’m not saying there isn’t some truth to the idea. But I’m not saying there is, either.”

  Which, in Ryan’s experience, pretty much guaranteed the second one. “At least tell me this. If it was possible for you to leave tomorrow and go back to the life you used to have, would you do it?”

  Alex held his stare. “Yes. I would. Without question or a single backward glance. Would you?”

  Ryan opened his mouth to offer a vehement yes. All he wanted in this world was to recapture the feeling he’d had in the rental car with Amy—the sensation that all of life’s weights meant nothing, that not even gravity could hold him down. That goal was everything he’d held out for and held on to for longer than he cared to recognize.

  But a large part of him balked at the thought of leaving like this. Leaving like this would mean he’d been nothing more than Mr. Montgomery’s tool all along. Leaving like this would mean letting Amy go on thinking the best of these people—the best of him—when it was the last thing any of them deserved.

  He closed his mouth again, unable to reply.

  Alex laughed, a deep, rumbling sound with no humor in it. “He’s finally got you snared, huh? I wasn’t sure he could do it. I should have known better than to doubt that man.”

  Ryan’s body grew cold. It wasn’t possible. Yes, Mr. Montgomery had the capability to manipulate his career, but there was no way he could manipulate his feelings. He couldn’t control Ryan’s desires.

  Alex seemed to disagree. “I’ll give Katie this much—Mr. Montgomery’s machinations run deeper than most of us give him credit for. You think that Hollywood man upstairs is here to free you? Think again, my friend. Mr. Montgomery has you exactly where he wants you. And free doesn’t exist anywhere in the vicinity.”

  Ryan could only stare at him, but Alex quirked a smile and made the motion of a zipper over his lips.

  “And that’s the last I’m saying on the subject.”

  * * *

  Amy pulled open the nursery door to find Ryan pacing in the hallway, looking as though he might enjoy punching a few holes in the walls. She wasn’t sure why physical damage appealed so strongly to the injured male psyche—or what had caused him to appear at the nursery door in such a mood—but she knew the only way to counteract it was with tiny adorable humans.

  “Ryan!” she called cheerfully as she ushered him inside. “Just the man I wanted to see. I’m about to take the twins outside for a walk, and I could use a helping hand. I don’t suppose you were hanging around out there on the off chance that I’d need your services?”

  She fully expected the horrified look that flashed over his face at her query—a terror directed almost entirely at the two small beings currently trying to shove a plastic spatula into a childproof covered electrical outlet. But she didn’t expect it to dissipate as quickly as it came.

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “That sounds like fun.”

  Amy placed a hand over her heart in mock horror. “I swear, if you’re about to tell me you adore children, there’s a good chance I’m going to draw your name in my diary with heart doodles tonight. It’s right up there with my robust men and tiny dogs fetish.”

  She regretted the words the moment they crossed her lips. Chill, Amy. You already offered. He already declined. Let’s not make a fool of ourselves here.

  “I don’t dislike kids.” He shuffled from one foot to the other, sharing her discomfort. “But I don’t have much experience with them. There weren’t a lot of free-range children running around the movie sets. At least not the kinds of movies I worked on.”

  “It’s not so hard. You just have to imagine living in a world where you want everything you see and you’re denied at least nine-tenths of it. Then you can imagine what it’s like being two years old.”

  Ryan swallowed so heavily his Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re right. That’s not very hard at all.”

  Ignoring the rush of heat that worked through her at his words, she went to the closet and gathered up an armload of sweaters. Chances were they’d all be running so hard over the fields trying to keep one another alive they wouldn’t need outerwear, but Serena had a big fear of the elements. After her CPR certification, Amy’d had to take a test on bizarre apocalyptic-like scenarios, like what you should do if you got trapped in a lightning storm. Apparently, you bent over and let it strike your butt. All that extra fat helped defray the electrical impulses from entering your brain.

  “You’re the official sweater holder.” She handed him the stack and informed the twins that it was time for their walk. To put on a good show, she always strapped them into a stroller and set out along the formal garden path out behind the house, but the containment never lasted very long. The lines of brightly colored flowers so painstakingly planted and maintained by Philip and his crew suffered for her negligence, but no one had called her out on it. Not yet, anyway.

  “Aren’t they going to run away?” Ryan asked anxiously once they were out of sight of the house and strolling under a white marble gazebo that seemed to add a funereal air to the otherwise gorgeous hillside. He hated to undermine Amy’s authority in this domain, but he wasn’t sure even she could be forgiven for letting one of the Montgomery children fall down a well. “I think there are like eight creeks around here.”

  A flash of Amy’s mischievous smile caught him by surprise. Without a word, she stuck a finger in either side of her mouth and let out a whistle so loud several birds in the trees took flight.

  Both children fell to the ground and started rolling, their giggles filling the silence left by the end of Amy’s piercing shriek.

  “What are they doing?”

  She laughed and fell to the ground. “Stop, drop and roll. Not the most creative of all my devices, but it does the trick. Get down. You have to do it with them or they’ll think I just made it up.”

  He dropped carefully to a squat, eyeing the muddied ground askance. “You did just make it up.”

  She
shared none of his concerns, landing on her side and rolling in the direction of the twins. Her tank top lifted where it met the band of her jeans, showcasing the soft, undulating surface of a body that demanded he obey its every desire. She stopped on the second roll, propping herself up with one elbow. “Do I question your superiority in all things mechanical?”

  “Fine.” He grumbled, but he did it good-naturedly. He rolled around a few times, unable to help himself from following closely in Amy’s wake, her hair leaving a tempting trail of sunny gold for him to follow.

  Ryan would swear later that it was an accident. There was no way he would have intentionally rolled on top of Amy in the middle of an open field with impressionable children within arm’s reach. He never would have dared to pin her body underneath his, flush with laughter and exercise and fun—all those things that weren’t sex but could easily become it. He definitely would have stopped himself before he dropped his lips to hers for a brief, fleeting kiss.

  The touch of their mouths was barely more than a whisper. Could practically be ruled an accident. Might have never happened at all.

  Except it had.

  Amy lay perfectly still, blinking up at him with neither pleasure nor hatred in her eyes. It wasn’t indifference either. It looked like...relief.

  “Oh, thank God. I’m so glad you caved first.”

  Ryan didn’t have a chance to think about what that comment meant before Amy’s arms wound around his neck and pulled his head close. When their lips made contact for a second time, her mouth was open and willing, her tongue waiting. This kiss was no accident, and there was no way to pretend it hadn’t happened. The press of her mouth seared him. It shook him. It made him forget every goddamn thing in the world except how much he wanted this woman to be his.