Roughing It With Ryan

by Jill Shalvis

  “No, I got you fired so I could get an assortment of sexual favors you’d never perform for me. I never realized how much we didn’t connect sexually,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you need a therapist, Suzanne.”

  She tipped her head back, studied the bright blue sky and counted to ten. “I do not need a sexual therapist.”

  “Suzanne, seriously. I’m worried about you. You really should get help.” He sounded sincerely concerned, which was totally at odds with his selfish manipulating that cost her a job. Boy, she’d really done a number on him. This post-Suzanne Tim was nothing like the sensitive, weeping Tim she’d first known.

  “I’ve got to go, Suzanne.”

  “Tim—”

  She heard nothing but static. Fake static.

  “Don’t you hang up on me— Damn it!” Yanking the phone from her ear, she glared at it. “I’m going to kill him,” she decided and stuck another huge spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

  “But then you’d have to go directly to jail without passing Go.”

  Whirling around, she faced…oh, good Lord. Ryan. Ryan, now shirtless, and damp from what had undoubtedly been hours of hard, physical work. A fine sheen of sweat covered his chest and the light dusting of dark hair that ran from pec to glorious pec. She could feel the heat of him and suddenly could barely breathe.

  Yeah, right, she needed a sexual therapist! What she needed, apparently, was a cold shower. Slowly she reached up and took the spoon out of her mouth.

  “No man is worth jail,” he said in the same voice he’d used on her last night, the one that made her shiver and quake from the inside out. “Even a scum like…Tim, did you say?”

  Great, he’d heard it all, the entire, humiliating listing of the recent events of her pathetic life. “You were eavesdropping.”

  He didn’t defend himself, just slowly crossed his arms over his chest and gave her that same crooked smile, accompanied with a raised brow that made her look around.

  With growing horror, she realized that in her quest for phone reception, she’d backed herself right in the middle of his work zone. She was surrounded by wood rounds, chain saws and a sea of sawdust.

  On either side of Ryan were two younger workers. When they caught her staring, they smiled sheepishly and turned back to their work.

  Not Ryan. He just stood there looking at her. She put the spoon into the container and looked right back. From the bottom of his work boots to the top of his dark hair now decorated with wood chips, he was even more amazing than she’d remembered from last night, and she remembered him as pretty amazing.

  Tim had been very good-looking, in a scholarly, professorly sort of way. Medium height, lean.

  Not hard and sinewy tough, like Ryan, who looked as if he’d spent years and years honing that body with hard physical labor. She’d never really gone out with anyone like Ryan.

  And didn’t intend to! She was through with men, done with destroying them. She really needed to remember that.

  It felt odd to be standing here like this, exchanging their first words since he’d had his arms around her the night before. When it had been dark. Raining.

  Urgent.

  Where she’d probably, if he’d kept on kissing her as he had, would have been willing to perform any sexual favor he wanted.

  What would a sexual therapist say about that?

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Me? Oh, sure.” She managed a laugh and hoped she didn’t have a chocolate mustache. “Dandy.”

  “You lost your job.”

  “What?” Taylor came out the front door of the building, reached for Suzanne’s hand. “You lost your chef position at Café Meridian?”

  “Her ex got her fired,” Ryan offered helpfully, still watching her very carefully. “Sounds like good riddance, wouldn’t you say, Taylor?”

  “Definitely.” Taylor hugged Suzanne close, and while her free hand lifted and hugged back, she stared at Ryan over her shoulder. Not just because he was shirtless and magnificent, but because of the way he was looking at her.

  And okay, partly because he was shirtless.

  All right, mostly because he was shirtless.

  But he wasn’t smirking. Why wasn’t he smirking?

  He wasn’t looking at her as if she was the biggest idiot on earth. Instead, his gaze was compassionate and seemingly sincere.

  She didn’t buy it. Didn’t want to buy it. “I’m fine,” she said, and patted Taylor. “Really.”

  “Of course you are.” Taylor pulled back and helped herself to the spoon sticking out the ice cream. “You’ll just have to come up with something better, that’s all.” Stabbing Suzanne’s spoon into the air, she said around a mouthful, “the two of us together against the world. Mmm, this is heaven. Ryan?” She offered him a bite, which he leaned over and took, opening his mouth to get it all, using his tongue to lick off the corner of his mouth.

  Suzanne stared at that mouth, torn between running for the hills and demanding another kiss, right here, right now.

  “Let me help you move today,” Taylor said.

  “But I’m jobless.”

  “So?”

  “So…jobless equals poor. How can you possibly still want me as a tenant?”

  “Do you always have ice cream available?”

  “Are you kidding? Always. And I cook a lot, too.”

  “Thank you God,” Taylor said fervently. “That’s good enough for me.”

  “So why aren’t you a caterer?” Ryan lifted his hands when both women turned to stare at him. “I’d think that would be a natural progression, from chef to caterer. And you could work for yourself. Not some flighty jerk who’s going to pass off your job to your ex’s new girlfriend.”

  Taylor turned to Suzanne, excitement lit in her eyes. “You haven’t seen it yet, but the unit you’re going to move into has a huge kitchen.”

  “I cater all the time,” Suzanne said slowly. “As a hobby. But that’s all it is, a hobby.”

  “So make it more,” Taylor said.

  Suzanne stared at her, then laughed. “It’s not that easy. In fact, it’s damn near impossible. Running a business just isn’t my thing.” Too regimented and, as her mother would attest, she just didn’t do regimented.

  “Hey, Ryan, you need a caterer,” one of his laborers called out, making Suzanne realize everyone stood around listening even while they pretended not to.

  The identical laborer swiped his arm across his forehead and bobbed his head. “Yeah, for our birthday party! Friday night, remember? You promised you’d have it at your place, cuz we’re too young to hit the bars until next year. We need food, lots of it.”

  “Lots,” agreed his twin.

  Ryan stared at them both, then shook his head with a little laugh. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

  When he looked at Suzanne expectantly, she let out her own little laugh. “No. No pity jobs.”

  “Turning down a client, Suzanne?” Ryan asked, an unmistakable dare in his gaze as he cocked his head and made her knees weak with just one look.

  Her heart pounded, and not from the dare either. Her poor body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo her brain had sent, that it wasn’t going to get lucky with this man.

  “Don’t forget, great kitchen,” Taylor said. “And as your landlord, I give you permission to run your business out of your place.”

  Suzanne felt like a fool with all of them looking at her, but she was putting her foot down on this one.

  Opening a catering business was as bad as…as dating. A recipe for failure, and she’d failed enough. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

  “Would you excuse us a minute?” Taylor asked the men, and hooking an arm around Suzanne’s neck, backed them up a few feet. “Are you crazy?” she whispered. “This is an excellent opportunity. A job and a hunk, all in the same turn.”

  “We swore off men,” Suzanne whispered back.

  “No, we swore to remain single. Nothing was said about living like a mo
nk. Suzanne, have you seen him look at you? Do this. Do him. It might relax you a bit.”

  “Taylor!”

  “Oh, it’s just a job. A one-nighter at that. And hey, if I can sell off my beloved furniture to keep us in this damn building, you can make a few snacks for a party.”

  It burned, but Taylor was right. With a sigh, Suzanne turned back to the waiting men, then nearly swallowed her tongue at the way Ryan was looking at her, a little smile curving the lips she knew tasted better than even ice cream. “Okay.”

  “Okay, you’ll do it?” asked Ryan’s worker. “You’ll cater the party?”

  She looked into his hopeful eyes, and also his worker’s. “I’ll cater the party.”

  “Cool!”

  Ryan just smiled, and damn if her stomach didn’t quiver. “Why are you doing this?” she asked him softly.

  “Doing what?”

  “Being…nice.”

  “I’m always nice.” He laughed when she merely lifted a doubtful brow. “Okay, maybe I don’t like to cook.”

  “Can’t you mean,” offered the first worker, zipping his mouth when Ryan sent him a long look.

  Hmm. So the man wasn’t perfect after all. He couldn’t cook. Somehow that made Suzanne feel better. A lot better.

  IF SUZANNE THOUGHT about how much she’d done in just three days her head would start spinning. And seeing as she was busy hunched over a large tray, putting together the innards for egg rolls as fast as her fingers could move, now wouldn’t be a good time to get overwhelmed.

  She’d moved her belongings, few as they were, from the loft apartment down one flight of stairs.

  Taylor let her borrow some furniture so that the bigger apartment didn’t seem so bare. Suzanne had scoured the South Village want-ads for a job and had blisters on her fingers from filling out applications. And because she did love it, and because she’d grown fond of eating, she agreed to several more catering jobs—as a hobby only. She and Taylor had gone outlet shopping to stock her new kitchen, which indeed, with some cleaning—aka hours of elbow grease—had turned out to be more than she could have hoped for.

  Of course her living room was still empty except for her favorite candles here and there. And it would stay that way for a while, as she’d used her one credit card on the kitchen. But that was the least of her problems at the moment.

  Ryan’s workers, Rafe and Russ, she’d learned, were young, wild and wonderful. For their twentieth birthday party they vowed to eat whatever she cooked, though they’d admitted they loved Chinese food. In light of that, she’d made a huge tub of fried rice and was nearly finished the egg rolls.

  And she was loving it.

  As a hobby. The thought of doing this seriously as a business terrified her.

  “Oh yeah, that’s a girl.” Russ, followed by Rafe pushed into her kitchen, their noses wriggling as they sniffed appreciatively at the scents.

  “Smells heavenly,” Taylor agreed, right behind them.

  “Oh, man, I’ll say.” Russ rubbed his belly. “We’re done for the day, heading home. See you there with all this food, right?”

  “Right,” Suzanne said, then looked at him over her shoulder. “Wait. You mean you’re heading to Ryan’s house?”

  “Well, yeah. But his house used to be ours, so I still say it sometimes.” Rafe reached in to steal an egg roll but Suzanne rapped him on the wrist. “His place used to be your place,” she repeated as understanding dawned. “You’re…brothers.”

  “Yep.” Russ beamed. “But don’t tell Ryan we told you, he doesn’t like people to know we’re related.”

  Aha! Proof positive Ryan-the-Gorgeous was in deed just a pretty face. Sure, he had a kiss that could melt bones, and sure, just a look from those dark eyes made her stupid, but inside he was petty and a big jerk. Good, because petty and jerky she could resist.

  Probably.

  “If everyone knew we were brothers, then the other laborers might figure out we get the best hours and more pay.” Russ glanced pathetically at the egg rolls. “And if they figured that out, they’d also figure out we have less experience than some of them, and Ryan doesn’t want a mutiny.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet,” Taylor said, looking like a queen surrounded by her servants, as always dressed to the hilt. Today she wore a linen sundress with nary a wrinkle despite the fact she’d been digging through her storage unit making a list of inventory. “Isn’t that sweet, Suzanne?”

  Yeah, sweet.

  Damn it.

  “What’s sweet?” Ryan wanted to know, squeezing into the kitchen with an easy smile and a shirt, thank you God, which meant maybe Suzanne had half a chance in hell on maintaining her concentration. He’d been distracting her for days, smiling at her, talking to her. Pretending to be a nice guy, which she had to admit, he seemed to have down to a science.

  More reason to steer clear. She destroyed nice guys. Her aimlessness, her lack of regimentation and her Carter family ways drove men crazy, made them selfish and turned them into men who accused their exes of needing sex therapists.

  Unconcerned about the danger lurking in his future, Ryan moved past the others, leaned in toward Suzanne and sniffed. “Mmm. Heaven.”

  She stepped aside. “It’s just food.”

  “I meant you,” he said, a smile in his eyes. “You smell like heaven.”

  Determined not to react even though her knees did that annoying wobble thing, she put her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me I was cooking for your brothers?”

  His smile didn’t falter. “Would you still have taken the job?”

  Damn it, probably not.

  With a playful tug on her apron, he grinned. “You sure look cute in the kitchen.”

  He probably thought women were cute pregnant and barefoot, too. “Are you hitting on me?”

  “Definitely.”

  She had to laugh. What else could she do? Besides, laughing hid the tremor in her voice. “Everyone out,” she decided, shoving them all toward the door, ignoring the groans and moans. “Out, out, out.”

  “See you tonight,” Ryan whispered in her ear, managing in the shuffle to stroke her jaw with his big hand. “Save me a dance.”

  Did he have to have such a voice on him? When he lowered it like that, all husky and suggestive, it sent shivers down her spine. Remember the vow—no men. “I don’t dance.”

  He studied her with those sleepy, sexy eyes. “I can teach you.”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t, I said I don’t.”

  He just smiled. “We’ll see.”

  6

  AT HOME, Ryan stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray hit his body. Treeing was hard work, and damn, but he was feeling every bit of that hard work in his aching muscles.

  The day would come, soon, when he’d lay down his chain saw and ax for good. Instead, he’d spend his time over a drawing table, lifting only a pencil. He’d design all day long and come home after working still refreshed.

  He could…well, date even half the women his brothers and sister thought he did, for one. That would be fun. Light and simple.

  After raising a family he was looking forward to light and simple. He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel a need for any steady relationship, but he had to admit that had been before.

  Before a raging stormy night, a shocking kiss and the most amazing woman had rocked his world.

  Suzanne.

  Maybe the problem was that he’d seen her too often since.

  No, that wasn’t it. He’d seen Taylor often, too, and he didn’t want to make love with her all night long.

  Maybe it was that he’d touched Suzanne. Kissed her. Held her. While she was wearing nothing but that little tank top and panties.

  The picture filled out in his head, as if it had just happened, instead of having occurred five nights ago. It had been dark, with the rain and wind beating down on them. And yet she’d been like a light in the deep black of the night. He could see her rosy, erect nipples pressing at the thin material o
f her top, the way her panties had been sheer enough to outline the part of her he wanted to bury himself in. She had a body made for loving, all warm curvy planes, and as he soaped up in his hot shower, he gave his erection a few absentminded strokes.

  That didn’t help matters any so he cranked the handle to the right, letting in the cold water.

  That didn’t help, either.

  “Ryan!” Angel yelled through the door. “I need the shower!”

  “’Kay.” But he went back to thinking about Suzanne. What was it about her that drew him so fiercely? She sure wasn’t light and simple—which was all he’d thought he could handle right now—and she sure as hell wasn’t looking at him with stars in her eyes.

  But what was in her eyes drew him—the tough vulnerability he wanted to know more about. She had a sharp wit and a will to survive. She buried her feelings behind both.

  He’d never been a sucker for vulnerability before, much preferring a woman secure and strong and self-assured, so why now, with her?

  It wasn’t as if she was falling at his feet, much less into his bed. He’d have to actually work at it, at her, if that’s what he wanted.

  And yet, he’d come to realize, that was exactly what he wanted. And he thought maybe he’d known it from the second he’d laid eyes on her.

  WITH AN HOUR TO GO before everyone descended on his place in all their rowdiness, Ryan opened his door to Suzanne. She smiled, a little nervously, he thought, and vanished into his kitchen. When he followed her, he found her bustling around, talking to herself as she loaded things into his refrigerator.

  “The man doesn’t even have a loaf of bread,” she was saying as she bent over to fit a long tray of something that smelled delicious onto the bottom shelf.

  Ryan leaned against the door to better enjoy the view her black skirt afford him as it tightened very nicely over her very nice rear end.

  “I would have gone food shopping yesterday,” he said, grinning when she whipped around in surprise. “But I knew you were bringing a load of food over so I didn’t bother. Thank you, by the way.”