Roughing It With Ryan

by Jill Shalvis

  “Can’t you think with me around?”

  “Frankly, no.” She touched his jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I just…need to be alone to think, okay? Good-bye, Ryan.”

  He snagged her hips and held her still, feeling unreasonably panicked, though he forced a smile. “I don’t like that word, good-bye, not when it applies to you and me.”

  “It’s the only one I have at the moment.”

  Be patient, he ordered himself as she drove away. She cared, she cared deeply, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch. Just be patient.

  He might as well have asked himself to stop breathing.

  13

  THE PARTY Suzanne was to cater that night was for a wedding anniversary. Another referral from the party she’d done for Ryan’s brothers.

  It crossed her mind that it was likely Ryan could be there, but as the party was a fiftieth wedding anniversary, and the happy couple was well into their seventies, she figured she was safe.

  That he was safe. Because she had no doubt, she would destroy him.

  But he probably wouldn’t be there, so she could relax. There’d be no long, direct stares that made her knees wobble. No light touches that caused her thighs to quiver. No secret smiles to both lighten and freak-out her heart.

  “I followed my nose all the way in here,” Taylor said as she walked into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. “We thought we’d help you carry your stuff down.”

  “We?”

  Taylor turned aside just as Nicole appeared in the doorway.

  “I was signing the rental agreement for the loft,” she said with a shrug that caused her myriad of earrings to tinkle like wind chimes. “The scent drew us in here.” She wore military green cargo pants that hugged her slim hips and a camouflage T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, emphasizing a tiny, lean and incredibly toned frame. Her short, sleek hair was carefully tucked behind her ears as she leaned over the trays and inhaled dramatically. “My God, you’re a genius, too.”

  “Too?” Suzanne looked at Taylor.

  “Yeah, she graduated college at thirteen. Disgusting, huh?”

  “I’d give it all up to be able to cook like this.” Nicole took another hopeful whiff. “No, I take that back. I don’t want to be able to cook like this, I just want to live above someone who does.”

  Taylor laughed. “You managed that feat, Super Girl.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll feed each of you whatever you want if you help me load all these trays.” Suzanne wondered if she needed to change her blouse, or if anyone would notice the small chocolate stain beneath her right breast. No time to worry about it, she decided.

  Nicole looked at her watch.

  “What, you got a hot date?” Taylor asked her.

  “Work,” Nicole answered.

  “Food should always take precedence over work.”

  “You’re right.” Nicole picked up a tray.

  It took four trips down the stairs, and by the time they’d finished, Suzanne was huffing and puffing. “For how much I lug around every day, I should be thin. I deserve to be thin.”

  “Nah.” Taylor jerked her head toward Nicole. “If you were thin like Nicole, for example, you wouldn’t have boobs.”

  With a frown, Nicole looked down at her small breasts.

  Suzanne laughed. “I’d give up the extra ten pounds each in a heartbeat.”

  “Really? Wonder if Ryan would say the same…”

  Taylor then ducked past Nicole to avoid Suzanne’s extended foot. “By the way, I hope he’s there tonight, you look great.”

  Suzanne did not feel great, she felt…harried. She was wearing her usual uniform of a white shirt—with the small chocolate stain—and black skirt, which, upon reflection, actually was kind enough to hide her biggest flaw—her hips. “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other if he’s there.”

  Taylor snorted. “Right.”

  “Singlehood,” Suzanne said. “Remember?”

  “Hey, I’m keeping the vow,” Taylor said. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  “Or me,” Nicole muttered, sliding the last tray in the back of Suzanne’s car and swiping her palms on her thighs.

  “You’re too cute and young for such a vow,” Suzanne said.

  Nicole lifted a brow. “I’m twenty-seven. Same as you I’d guess. And besides, a woman can never be too young to decide no man is a good man.”

  Only a few weeks ago, Suzanne would have said amen to that. But the image of Ryan came to her—tall, dark and…well, hers.

  Damn him. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Give Ryan a kiss for me.”

  “Shut up.”

  Taylor smiled knowingly at Nicole. “She’s going to give him a kiss for me.”

  Suzanne sighed. “There are containers in my fridge. Help yourselves to dinner.”

  Taylor and Nicole high-fived each other and vanished up the stairs.

  Suzanne got into her car, and all the way to the job lectured herself on the reasons why singlehood was a good idea. Why she’d made the vow in the first place.

  And all the way there, the reasons didn’t make much sense.

  An hour later the party was in full swing. She was in the kitchen, racing around, humming to herself, when she turned toward the door and froze. Ryan stood in the doorway looking at her with an expression that completely stole her breath.

  And suddenly, she couldn’t remember a single one of those reasons she’d recited to herself on the way over here. She couldn’t remember anything but how he made her feel.

  He wasn’t wearing his usual jeans and work shirt, but instead a pair of khakis and a collarless thin sweater that clung to his broad shoulders and chest in a way that made thinking all but impossible.

  Before she could recover, his long, long legs swallowed the distance between them. “Hey,” he said softly.

  How was it possible to be so off balance just by looking at him? He hadn’t even touched her, couldn’t touch her when he had his hands in his pockets as he did, and yet her heart had already taken off.

  He slipped his hands out of his pockets to tuck a wayward strand of her cursed hair behind her ear. Just a gentle touch, an easy touch, one he drew out by not retracting his hand right away, instead letting his finger trail down her cheek.

  “I have work to do,” she managed.

  “Okay.” He ran his finger over the pin on her blouse, just above her breast. Her nipples would have hardened, but they’d already done that at the first sight of him.

  She lifted a tray but he took it out of her hands.

  “Ryan—”

  “Let me help.”

  Before she could say that wasn’t a good idea—if she let him help, she would feel obligated to him, and if she felt obligated to him, she might do something stupid at the end of the night like beg him to make love to her—he simply leaned close and kissed her cheek. Just her cheek, just a quick connection, and yet her entire body reacted. Wanted more. No other man had ever had that kind of power over her.

  And, she realized, no man ever would. Her legs wobbled at this realization.

  Ryan walked out the double swinging doors of the kitchen with the tray, leaving her standing there…stunned. Aching.

  “Fine, then. Take the tray.” Muttering beneath her breath about beautiful, bossy men who had to have their own way, she whirled back to the counter and began to fuss over another tray that had gotten a little sideways on the drive.

  “Why is it that every cook I know mutters to themselves?” asked a female voice.

  Angel. Suzanne didn’t turn around immediately, as she wasn’t ready to face yet another Alondo. “How many cooks do you know?” she asked lightly.

  “Well, there’s you. And my brother. Even though we tease him, Ryan is pretty handy in the kitchen, did you know that?”

  No. No, she didn’t. She didn’t know a lot about him, and despite the pull low in her belly at the thought of him, s
ay standing barefoot in his kitchen whipping them up a midnight snack, she decided that was a good thing.

  “He cooked dinner for us every night after our parents died.” Angel looked over the dessert tray carefully as she spoke. “Through homework. Through basketball games. Through me being a stupid, vain and mean teenage girl. Through Rafe and Russ not wanting to sit down for family dinners without Mom and Dad. Through thick and thin, Ryan was there, making us dinner.” Angel plucked up a brownie. Popped it into her mouth. Chewed, then closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. “Oh my God, this is sinful.” Her eyes opened again. “He always made a veggie.” She shuddered. “Usually a green one. He made us eat it. I used to hate him for that.”

  Suzanne pictured the three of them, Russ, Rafe and Angel, young and scared and hurting, being gathered together for dinner by Ryan. Ryan, who just wanted to keep his family together and safe. Ryan, who’d do anything, including giving up college, simply to make that happen.

  A man like that was different from any man she’d ever known. A man like that wouldn’t just walk away when the going got tough. A man like that would say only what he meant, and would never, ever, hurt her on purpose.

  She couldn’t ruin a man like that…right? So what was she afraid of? What was she really afraid of here?

  Maybe, she thought with a hitch in her breath, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Worse, maybe the truth was she’d hidden behind her fear of nothing.

  And that made her a coward. “And now?” Suzanne asked quietly. “How do you feel about him now, knowing all he sacrificed to keep you guys together?”

  “I love him more than anything or anyone,” Angel said simply. She popped another brownie. “Mmm.” She licked her lips. “And I’d seriously hurt anyone who hurt him.”

  Suzanne leaned back against the counter and considered the younger woman. “Is that some kind of a warning?”

  Angel looked at her. “Do you plan on hurting him?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Suzanne said with a little laugh that didn’t hold any real humor. “I don’t have the power to hurt him.”

  “Is that what you really believe?” Clearly disappointed with Suzanne’s response, Angel put her third brownie back. “Really?”

  Suzanne pictured how Ryan had looked a moment ago, eyes hot and aching.

  For her.

  In their wildest dreams, neither of them had ever intended for this…this thing to go as far as it had. She knew that, just as she knew what they’d wanted had little to do with it. Their hearts had taken over.

  Oh, Ryan. What a pair we are.

  As if he could hear her thoughts, he came back into the kitchen, looking bigger than life. Dividing an even glance between his sister and Suzanne, he raised a brow. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Angel went to him and kissed his cheek.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  “Actually,” Angel said. “It was nothing at all.”

  And with a long look at Suzanne, she left.

  Suzanne busied her hands with another tray.

  “She’s a good person,” she said, not looking at him.

  “That’s because of you.”

  “You haven’t seen her at the crack of dawn on a school day,” he murmured, coming close. “Don’t give me credit where it’s not due.”

  “Ryan—”

  He put his fingers to her lips. “Hear that?”

  When she spoke his fingers brushed her mouth. “All I hear is the music.”

  “Exactly.” It had gone soft, dreamy and slow. Taking the oven mitt out of her hands, he drew her close.

  There was nothing in her but need so she went against him, then pressed closer still. They rocked together a little, for the longest time, just being.

  When the second song came on, he shifted closer still, and so did she. His hands molded her body.

  She returned the favor. She couldn’t help it, the feel of his big body against hers drew out every emotion she had, and apparently there were quite a few more than she’d imagined.

  He had one hand low on her spine, the other, entwined with hers, lay against their thighs. Gently gliding his jaw to hers as they swayed together right there in the middle of the kitchen, he sighed.

  And so did her heart.

  The music seemed to flow through her, through them, until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. He was passionate, earthy and, she suspected, rather demanding with those he brought into his heart.

  Knowing that only made hers beat faster.

  And yet the physical contact wasn’t enough. She wanted to tell him some of what she was feeling, only those feelings were so jumbled up and confused, she didn’t think she could put words together to justify them.

  She had actions though, and didn’t actions speak louder than words? She lifted her face to his, wanting that connection, the deep, soul-searching kiss only he could give her.

  He gave it, and at his sound of pleasure, she melted into him. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever done, body to body, mouth to mouth, fully dressed, imagining them otherwise. She’d never felt so hot in her life.

  Then, as all good things do, it ended. The music died away.

  And Suzanne pulled back. “I’d…better get busy.”

  He ran his thumb over her lips, the ones he’d just been sucking on. “This catering…it’s working out for you.”

  “Oh. Well.” She backed up, turned to the sink. “It’s doing okay. For a hobby.”

  “Am I just a hobby, too?”

  “Uh…” She turned on the faucet full blast. Resist, Suzanne.

  But suddenly she didn’t want to resist. She wanted him, and more of the amazing feelings she always had in abundance when she was with him.

  She wanted that more than she wanted anything. Whipping around, both a smile and his name on her lips, she faltered.

  Because he was gone, leaving her standing there under the harsh glare of the kitchen lights, body aching and burning.

  Just as she’d probably done to him over and over.

  IT TOOK HER another hour to clean up the job. Ryan never came back.

  By the time she’d packed up and got everything in her car, it was late.

  Still, she found herself outside Ryan’s place with her hand raised to knock.

  This was stupid. She had no idea what to say to him. Lowering her hand, she turned away, then swore out loud. Then she whipped around again and knocked before she could change her mind.

  Ryan answered the door in low-slung sweats and a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses hanging by the earpiece out of the corner of his mouth. He had a book in one hand, a pencil in the other, and seemed less than pleased with the distraction.

  Until he saw her. “Suzanne?”

  She managed a little smile, though in truth she was so nervous she felt a little sick with it. “Hi.” Stepping close, she pulled the glasses from his mouth, put her hands on his bare chest, leaned in and kissed him.

  Shock held him immobile for only the barest of beats before he dropped the book and the pencil to put his hands on her hips. But instead of pulling her close, he held her away, so that she couldn’t arch her hips to his. “Are…you alone?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  He was alone, he wasn’t pulling her close, and she didn’t know what to do. Staring at his amazing body, into his deep, deep eyes, her mind racing frantically, she slid her hands over his chest. She simply couldn’t stop herself. Over his hard pecs, his beaded nipples…

  “Suzanne…what are you doing?”

  She took some comfort in the fact his voice was low and strained. And underneath his sweats, he wasn’t able to hide a thing, including the erection she yearned to rub up against. “Ryan…”

  He just looked at her. Not coldly, no there was nothing cold in his gaze as it held hers, but neither was he going to help her.

  Please don’t let me be too late. “I want to make love with you,” she whispered, feeling her face heat t
here in the dark on his porch.

  “You mean you want to have sex?”

  She’d hurt him, even though she’d looked Angel right in the eye and said she couldn’t. She could, and she had. “Not sex, no.”

  He didn’t look convinced, so she ran her hands down his arms to his hands, which she entwined in hers.

  He still held himself rigid.

  She simply leaned in closer and put a kiss on the corner of his grim mouth, then slowly made her way over his firm lips to the other corner.

  His eyes drifted shut, his thick lashes fanned against his cheeks.

  “Please, Ryan.” She outlined his lower lip with her tongue, and ripped a deep shudder from his big frame. “Please? Let me love you.”

  With a rough groan, he hauled her close. Thank God. Hauled her up and against his big, hot body, whirled around, stepping over the threshold, kicking the door closed behind them.

  “No holding back,” he grated out.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, but he held her off another moment, looking into her eyes with a fierce look of intent. “Say it,” he demanded.

  “N-n-no holding back.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  She’d barely gotten the words out of her mouth before he’d planted her up against the front door, his big frame holding her there, which freed up his hands to run them boldly up her body, touching every inch of her.

  Heaven. Being touched like this by him was heaven on earth. “Ryan, I’ve been such a fool about this.”

  “Yeah. But I love you anyway.” He held her head in his big hands, holding her still while he ravished her mouth, before lifting a fraction of an inch. “Are we clear on that, at least? I love you, fool.”

  14

  WHEN SUZANNE just stared at him, mouth open, eyes wide, Ryan figured he should be sorry for letting the words slip, but he wasn’t. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth wet from his kisses. The pulse at the base of her neck was frenzied, her breaths were coming in short little pants as she fumbled behind her for the door.

  “Let me guess,” he said, not especially kindly, as she’d ripped him right open. “You have to go?”