by Jo Leigh
“Wow,” Ryan whispered as he turned to Angie. “I can’t wait for the next session to start.”
“The worst has got to be over, right?” she said, referring to his earlier session with Marcus.
Ryan shuddered, and she held back her laugh because what he’d gone through was not amusing at all. The pale man with the hooker fetish had actually put his hands on Ryan’s body. Above the waist, of course. Still. Eww.
“We have time to go back to the room,” he said. “You gonna stay and guzzle more coffee or join me?”
She basked in his slow easy smile, annoyed that her heart actually fluttered. It had ceased to matter that she wished she felt nothing more than respect and camaraderie. Life as she knew it before making love with Ryan was already crumbling around her. Why delay it? “Let’s go. I want to change shirts, and I have a proposition for you.”
* * *
RYAN WASN’T LIKING THIS one bit. Especially the part where he had to go first. So far the only thing he’d liked about today was Angie’s suggestion that they leave early. Even that sucked as far as propositions went, and the plan only shaved off a day. But trying to keep his hands off her made every minute matter.
They were in the Lavender Room and if he never saw the color purple again, it would be fine with him. The much-hated bean bags had been shuffled off to one corner and the massage tables from the morning session had disappeared. Now there were twelve chairs in pairs that faced each other in a broad circle. He was sitting so close to Angie that his knee was nearly touching hers. Not by choice, because being this near her was dangerous. But at least their proximity meant that unless they spoke loudly, whatever they said to each other wouldn’t be overheard. It was, according to Ira and Delilah, a matter of trust.
“The first timer will be set for thirty minutes, the second for thirty-four minutes.” Delilah spun slowly around as she explained the exercise. “You will remain seated for the entire time. Once the first chime goes off, everyone stops speaking. Be sure to make and keep eye contact until the second chime. For the first thirty minutes, you may speak to each other, but you must remember not to be judgmental or sarcastic or dismissive. Everyone clear?”
Ryan was barely listening. He was too busy thinking about the private instruction he and the other men had received a few moments ago. Ira had explained that the point of this psychological torture experiment was to reveal something intimate, something they’d never told anyone before, and then let the conversation take its own course. And to pay particular attention to the last four minutes of eye contact.
Ryan had about forty-five seconds to decide if he should make something up that might be true for Ebsen, or to tell Angie about a part of his life. That would have been a no-brainer, but he knew that Ira would be paying particular attention to him during this exercise from hell.
“And so,” Delilah announced. “We begin.”
Silence all around him wasn’t making his decision easier. His thoughts darted from topic to topic in an attempt to find some piece of business he could build into a convincing fiction. Something with heart, something that would sound true, and painful and like a secret held close to the vest, but everything seemed stupid or was from some movie he saw on TV, or had too many guns involved.
He knew Angie had no idea what to expect, except that he was supposed to speak now. From the way her eyes darted to the right, then widened at him, he knew someone was coming to help them get started.
“When I was fourteen, my father brought home a prostitute,” he said. “For me.”
Angie got very still. Her breathing stalled for a moment, then started again, but she hadn’t blinked.
He was having some trouble on that account, himself. Of all the things in his life, why the hell had that slipped out? Could he change tracks now? Take it back?
Ira’s goddamn patchouli smell hit him before the man himself crouched beside him. “You can say anything you wish to say. Remember, there are no mistakes. The only requirement is willingness.”
Ryan was willing to smash the moron’s face in, but he just nodded, getting the message that if Ebsen wanted to save his marriage, he’d better cut open a major vein.
“She was young,” Ryan said, lowering his voice while leaning toward Angie. But he didn’t say another word until Ira in his ugly aloha shirt walked away.
While he could have switched the topic, one look at Angie stopped him. He’d already said too much, and he didn’t want her thinking he’d been traumatized for life. It was better to tell her the truth then leave room for her to make stuff up. “She was over eighteen, I know that, because he told me. She also looked a whole lot like my mother. Same dark hair cut blunt at the top of her neck. Green eyes like her. Same kind of body. Short, curvy. Her top was cut so low I could see her bra. It was red.
“I’ve never been so embarrassed about anything in my whole life as when she walked into that room. She had two glasses with her. Scotch shots. I’d had beer before, and I’d tried some booze with my friends, but this was drinking my old man’s scotch with a hooker. Of course, I was horny, I was fourteen and smothered in puberty, but I was dying, too. Because my father was in the other room. He knew exactly what we were supposed to do. That she’d be naked. She’d see me naked.”
He paused, not wanting to give Angie an opening but not wanting to talk, either.
“Was she nice to you?”
Of all the questions she could have asked, that’s what she led with? “Huh. Yeah. She was okay. She didn’t point and laugh. At that age, I wasn’t exactly Playgirl material.”
“You were a child. He’d go to jail for that now, if not then.”
“Yeah. Probably. If I’d told anyone.”
“You never told anyone? Not even a friend?” she asked.
He inhaled sharply, wondering why the hell he was telling Angie? What was he doing? His heart had been beating fast since they’d walked into the room, now he was pretty certain he was headed for a stroke. He shook his head.
“You didn’t want to brag about it?”
“I wanted to forget it ever happened.” He leaned back, wishing the chairs were farther apart.
“Did you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It was...memorable. Even the horrible parts.”
“There were good parts, too?”
Leave it to Angie to keep looking for that silver lining. “One or two.”
Interestingly Angie was the one mirroring his body language, even though that had been part of his instructions. She’d leaned back when he had. Her right hand was fisted to match his left. Their knees were touching now. Barely, though, mostly his pants and hers brushing against each other. He scooted forward on his chair far enough that he could feel her.
“Wow, your father sounds like a real sweetheart and a dream dad.”
That made him laugh. Good for her. He had no idea how much time had passed, and he wanted the damn chime to happen so he could stop. Even though the eye contact thing was going to be a bitch. The two of them kept dancing around each other. Looking away, looking back, over and over.
“I had some difficult things happen to me when I was young,” she said. “I told you about the whole sports connection, but what I didn’t say was that my parents forced me into situations that were far too complicated for a child my age. But what your father did was child abuse. My God, you were so young.”
The bark of a laugh that was meant to disabuse her of her dramatic notions came out way more pathetic than it should have. “Look, I wasn’t scarred for life, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was a crappy thing to pull on your own kid, which is why, by the way, I have no plans to have children of my own, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. I went on to kick ass in school. In college. Anything I ever wanted I went after hard, and here I am, so there’s no use wringing my hands over my childhood issues. We all have crap happen to us, and some of us turn that into motivation. I’ll never be like him. Never.”
The way she looked at him told him exactl
y how much she believed him on that last score. His back straightened. “I’m not denying that my attitude toward women hasn’t been damaged. But we play the hand we’re dealt.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to. It’s fine. I’m not unhappy or wishing I could be something that I’m not.”
“No, of course you’re not.” The sympathy in her eyes irritated him. “I admire you.”
“Because I had a bad childhood?”
“I admired you before today.”
“Even after we...?”
Her lips parted and curved up slightly. She must have licked them while he’d been talking because they glistened. If he could have, he’d have leaned over and kissed her.
“Where was your mother in all this?” she asked very gently.
He shrugged. “No idea.”
“You okay with that?”
“Yeah. I think she was lucky to get out.”
“She left you behind.”
“She did.”
Her hand went to his knee and he felt it all the way up his body. As if her touch were made of sparks. It was just her hand.
He covered it with his own. The flare transformed into a warm diffusion of comfort that settled right next to the steady and unceasing arousal that had taken root near his spine.
It was Angie who leaned toward him this time. He mirrored the move, guessing she might want to whisper something, just to make sure no one else could hear.
He was wrong. She moved straight on in for a kiss that caught him completely off guard. It wasn’t much, compared to what they’d done before. Just lips, soft and sweet. But damn.
He barely heard the chime go off.
* * *
AFTER THE CHIME, ANGIE pulled back. Not far, though. Before she could meet Ryan’s gaze, she had to clear her head. She closed her eyes, took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. When she looked again, it was straight into his unwavering gaze.
It was a revelation.
The urge to turn away was profound, not from looking, but from being seen. Of course, she’d held eye contact before. Never so intentionally and never with someone who’d just poured his secrets into her lap.
Her lips parted and she had to struggle to fill her lungs, as if the room itself were losing oxygen. Her eyes flicked down and took in his strong jaw, the gap between his lips, the first hint of stubble on his chin, but then she returned to the connection, to the pull.
The next urge was to talk, to make a joke, to hide behind words, but that wasn’t allowed, and how long had it been? A minute? It had to have been at least a minute.
God, his eyes were so dark. His pupils had taken up all the room, and she knew it was an illusion that she could see herself reflected. If the old proverb had been right and she was peering into his soul, the view was less poetic than she’d been led to believe. The only thing she could read was want. Then again, perhaps that’s why she thought she could see herself.
His hand moved, a slow drift to gripping her lightly around her wrist. Then his thumb went to her pulse point, and he rubbed, back and forth. Delicately. She wanted to watch, of course, but she held steady. The edges of his eyes crinkled, and she knew exactly which smile he’d put on. Could picture its every detail.
What was he seeing in her? How sad she felt for his childhood? How brave she knew he was? He made so much more sense now. It was as if he’d handed her his Rosetta Stone, and she had a whole new view of the path he’d taken. At least, some of the path.
It was tempting to think the revelation explained all of him. Just because there was such an obvious correlation didn’t mean there weren’t a hundred different stories that would change the picture dramatically.
She couldn’t help wondering, though, if he would ever find a way out of the fortress he’d built around himself. Now, though, she wanted to kiss him again. They were going home tomorrow morning. While she’d been in the shower during their break, Ryan had received the go-ahead from Gordon, and the team was busy setting up their departure, complete with a verifiable paper trail.
So this really would be the last time she could kiss him. She had no business being upset at the fact, but there it was. She moved in closer, with no doubt at all that he was on board.
Just as her lips brushed his, the chime rang. Ryan’s hand disappeared, he jerked back as if she’d been about to slap him and before she could get her bearings, he was out of his seat and across the room.
A moment later, he was gone. The session wasn’t over. Other couples were kissing, were touching. All of them deeply involved with their mates. Angie looked at Delilah, who gave her a sympathetic smile.
Ira approached, then crouched down beside her. “It happens sometimes.”
“What’s that?”
“Fear. That he revealed too much. That he was too truthful. People, particularly men, aren’t used to that level of intimacy.”
“It was extreme.”
“Believe it or not, this is a good sign. Even though the session isn’t over, I think you ought to go after him.”
Angie nodded, still in shock, not just from Ryan’s vanishing act but the thirty-four minutes that had preceded it. She collected her purse from the back of the room and slipped outside, not wanting to disturb the rest of the group. If she hadn’t been so worried about Ryan, she would have breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. Instead, she hurried toward the bungalow, to their room, wondering if she should, in fact, walk in or knock, or just give Ryan some time alone.
When she walked in, Ryan had his suitcase on the bed, and a bundle of folded clothes in his arms. If she was reading him right, and she was pretty sure she was, he was leaving. Now.
14
“RYAN?”
He didn’t turn around. In fact, he sped things up, shoving his belongings into the case as if they’d wronged him in some way. “There’s no reason to wait until tomorrow,” he said. “We’re done. We might as well get back to L.A., start the paperwork.”
“I’m all for leaving,” she said, “but don’t you think this might look a little suspicious?”
He glanced at her, then walked to the dresser. “What difference does it make? Today, tomorrow.”
“Because of the session we just had.”
“What does that mean?”
His words were brusque, and yeah, okay, she understood. He’d opened himself up to her in there, not something he was used to. However, they had to think this through and not let his self-consciousness mess up the finale.
“It means that we should take a minute.” She walked over to her side of the bed, sat by her pillow. He’d have to look at her if he was going to continue to pack.
“It was your idea to get out of here.”
“And we put the plan in motion. Gordon agreed to our leaving in the morning.”
“That’s just a technicality.”
She closed her eyes as she gathered her equilibrium. Not even ten minutes ago, the two of them had been gazing into each other’s eyes, and she’d felt a connection to Ryan that had gone so deep she’d seen that her feelings for him were more complex than just a crush. To find him like this made her all the more aware of what a mess she’d gotten herself into.
Although Ryan tried to look as if everything was normal, panic was just below the surface. Given what she knew about him now, that made a world of sense. “Can we at least take a breather?”
His chin dropped to his chest and he sighed deeply. “I can’t believe how I blew it in there.”
“What?”
“I have absolutely no idea if Ira or Delilah was listening.” He slammed the dresser door shut and walked to the window, tension rippling through his every motion. “I couldn’t get it together fast enough, and I should have been better prepared. I don’t even remember half of what I told you, and for all I know I completely contradicted everything I’d told Ira at the hot springs. God dammit, I bet I said some things to Marcus this morning that put Ebsen’s mother in the picture. If th
ey put two and two together—”
Angie joined him at the window and put her hand on his shoulder.
He jerked as if she’d shocked him.
“You didn’t blow anything,” she said. “Ira and Delilah weren’t near us.”
“How do you know? We were too busy staring at each other—”
“I know. You know it, too. Both of us have been trained to always be somewhat aware of our surroundings.”
He shook his head, his jaw tensing, and that little vein on his forehead had made an appearance.
“You were amazing,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. He must have felt it even through his tension. “What those two saw were two people deeply engrossed in each other. We couldn’t have done a more convincing job if we’d rehearsed for months. They would never doubt that we were exactly who we said we were, that you are deeply frightened of losing everything that matters to you. And that I would be devastated if I discovered you’d been with someone else.”
“That’s the voodoo talking,” he said. “I don’t know what it was about that exercise, but come on. That was like hypnosis or something.”
She couldn’t disagree, truth be told. It had felt as if they’d been mesmerized. “It doesn’t matter. What happened in that room was the icing on the cake.” She dropped her hand, but she didn’t step away. “You were great.”
His eyes slammed shut so tightly it was painful to watch, and the urge to hold him filled her.
He spun around and before she could even understand what was happening, she was in his arms and his lips were on hers, the kiss so desperate it made her gasp. He took advantage and used his tongue while his hands ran down her back pulling her tight against his body. She hung on to his sides as if her life depended on it. As if his did, too.
“It’s over,” he said, his lips brushing hers. “We aren’t breaking the rules.” He kissed her again, grasping the back of her head with his broad hand and tilting her just enough that their mouths locked together like pieces of a puzzle.
