by Lissa Manley
Ryan cut in. “Look, I know all about red tape and stuff like that, but Anna regrets her decision, and we both want to make sure our picture isn’t included.” He gave Colleen a level stare. “It’s important. I’m sure there’s some way to make that happen.”
Colleen held up her hands. “I’m sorry, guys. It’s out of my hands. If you’d caught me a little earlier this afternoon, I might have been able to help, but as it is…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
Anna held her breath, a sick feeling moving through her like a bad case of the flu.
“What do you mean, ‘as it is’?” Ryan pressed, his brows drawn low over his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Another article fell through, and ‘The Bridal Chronicles’ was moved ahead in the schedule.” Colleen smiled apologetically. “Anna signed the release and the story went to press an hour ago. It’s a done deal.”
They were too late. The photo of her and Ryan was headed for the front page and there was nothing she could do about it.
Not a darn thing.
Anna closed her eyes, dreading the glaring spotlight poised to shine right at her. And Ryan. Together. For all the world to see. She was stuck well and good to Ryan as his pretend bride.
If that particular bit of torture wasn’t bad enough, in no time her father would come storming into her life, his arrogance and antiquated familial expectations jammed on “full speed ahead.”
A sinking feeling took root in her chest, and she was sure the unpleasant sensation wasn’t going to go away for a long, long time.
And to make matters even more bleak, with her dad’s arrival more than likely imminent, her life would only get worse.
Sinclair Banking, here I come.
Chapter Four
Anna stood next to her car on the street around the corner from the Beacon. Cars drove by, speeding to make the stoplight at the intersection a half block down. A bus stopped to pick up passengers a few feet away, then closed its doors and accelerated, spewing exhaust, kicking up dust. She fanned herself against the late-afternoon heat, intensified by rush-hour traffic. What else could possibly go wrong today?
First that delivery guy had recognized her. Then she’d discovered “The Bridal Chronicles” had already gone to press, only to exit the building alone to find that she’d been given a parking ticket because she’d been in a hurry and had foolishly parked in a No Parking zone.
Muttering uncharacteristically dark thoughts under her breath, she heard heavy, crunching steps behind her. Her skin prickled.
Ryan.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He sounded concerned, and his deep voice sent ripples of pleasure down her spine.
She sat down on the curb. “I’m fine, I guess.” She drew her eyebrows together and bit her lip. “Just mad.” She held up the ticket.
He sank down on the curb next to her. “This city loves giving parking tickets. I’ve received three in the last month.” He was quiet for a moment. “Did they nail you for the hefty fine?”
She eyed him, ignoring his question. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get your designer suit dirty sitting on the curb like that?”
He shrugged. “Not really. Besides, I used to hang out on curbs all the time.”
Surprise bounced through her. Ryan looked more like the golden-boy type who had never come near a curb in his life. The kind of guy she should avoid. “You’re kidding,” she said, turning toward him to see if he was joking. “You don’t strike me as the type who’d ever hang out on a curb.”
He looked off into the distance, his face shuttered, his eyes unreadable. “Is that so?”
Anna had the distinct impression he was dodging the subject. Lovely. She didn’t want or need to know anything about him. Impersonal was just what she wanted, just how she needed things to be to remain immune to his masculine appeal.
They sat in silence for a time, which Anna didn’t break. It was his turn to talk.
Finally he said, “I wish we could have stopped the photo.”
She sincerely doubted it. “Oh, please. You’re getting the publicity you want. You should be thrilled.”
“I was willing to do without the publicity for your sake,” he pointed out. “I had no way to know the article would go to press this early.”
“True. But it is convenient for you, isn’t it?” she said, lifting a brow high.
He frowned, his eyes darkening to a deep, dark blue. “Dammit, Anna. Can’t you be gracious enough to accept my apology?”
He was probably right. She’d never considered herself a particularly bitter person and she usually believed everything would work out for the best. She could only hope “The Bridal Chronicles” would produce some kind of positive outcome. Really, though, how could meeting Ryan and having her father descend on her possibly have a silver lining?
The tangle of dread inside of her told her that everything she’d worked so hard for was about to crash down around her.
She sighed and rested her elbows on her knees. “All right. I’ll try to be gracious.” Heaven knew that was what she’d been raised to do. In her world, a lady never raised her voice and was always polite and well mannered, no matter what the circumstance.
Sometimes she hated that.
“Good. I’m sorry about the photo. If I could have stopped it, I would have.” He rose. “Now how about dinner?”
She snapped her head toward him, wondering at his abruptness. “Slow down. You’re asking me out again?”
He grinned, the skin around his stunning blue eyes crinkling. “Sure. I’d like to make you feel better, and I’m starving.” He rubbed his stomach. “How about we go down to the Rose Festival Fun Center on the waterfront and pig out on carnival food?”
His smile was infectious, even if his suggestion of pigging out was dangerous. One bite of a greasy hamburger and she’d never stop gorging.
Once again noticing his dimples, she gave him an answering smile, even though she was sure he was only asking her out to make himself feel less guilty. Besides, she might as well make the best of things. Perhaps if she went with him, she could press him for what she needed most—to make sure “The Bridal Chronicles” ended without any more photos or media exposure.
“You’re always starving.” As she took his offered hand and rose, holding on a bit longer than was necessary, she told herself she was only going with him to get what she needed. Agreeing to dinner had absolutely nothing at all to do with the sparks his touch caused, or with how much she loved his charming dimples and deep blue eyes.
If she told herself that enough, maybe she’d begin to believe it.
It was a wonderful night for a carnival.
The evening on the waterfront was balmy and remarkably dry for June, which she’d heard tended to be a cool, wet month in Portland. The smell of carnival foods filled the warm air—greasy French fries, sticky, sweet cotton candy, and cinnamon sprinkled elephant ears. The calls of the game hawkers—“three tries for a dollar!”—echoed across the tents, and the sound of a riverboat whistle, low and deep, floated on the warm breeze from the Willamette River. From the direction of the carnival rides, screams of either fright or joy reverberated in the warm evening.
As soon as they stepped through the gates, Ryan looked at her, a sudden gleam in his blue eyes. “Let’s hit the midway first, okay?” He pretended to throw a ball. “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
She smiled. “Fine by me,” she replied, suddenly excited at the prospect of really experiencing the carnival, midway and all. Her father had always deemed carnivals and the like beneath them and had never, despite her begging, allowed her to go to one.
She was beginning to realize how many things she’d missed out on as a child, cocooned in the safe, boring little world her father had made for her.
They headed toward the ticket booth, and Ryan blithely bought a hundred tickets.
She looked at him, incredulous. “I thought you said you were feeling lucky.”
“I am.” He grinned like
an excited little boy. “But when a Teddy bear’s at stake, I want to be sure I have enough.”
Anna fought to keep her jaw from sagging. She never would have guessed Ryan would care at all about something as sentimental as winning a Teddy bear at a carnival.
Since it was such a beautiful evening, the midway was jammed with people—young, old, couples and families. Ryan led her through the throng, looking left and right, stopping periodically to peruse certain stalls. Finally he pointed to his left. “Over there. The baseball toss.”
Holding on to his big, warm hand—a mistake?— she followed him to a relatively uncrowded game stall at the very end of the midway.
They waited in line behind two gangly preteen boys who had fairly good arms but extremely bad aim. Both struck out several times without winning any thing. As they were walking away, looking disappointed, Ryan held out some tickets. “Here, guys, why don’t you try again.”
Both boys looked as surprised as Anna was by Ryan’s offer. “You sure, mister?” one of them said.
Ryan nodded. “I’m sure. Give it another try.”
All smiles, the boys took the tickets and tried again. One boy lucked out and knocked all of the milk bottles down with his three throws and won a small, stuffed snake. The other struck out again.
Ryan fed him tickets until the boy managed to finally knock down all three bottles to win a stuffed lizard. Grinning, the boys thanked Ryan profusely and ran off, their prizes clutched in their hands.
A warm spot growing inside of her, Anna looked at Ryan. “That was a very nice thing you did.”
He shrugged as he handed his tickets to the hawker. “When I was their age and the carnival came to town, I could never managed to win anything. Just wanted to save them some well-remembered disappointment.” The hawker handed him three baseballs, and Ryan faced the bottles, his face suddenly serious. After squinting at his target for a few seconds, he drew his arm back and hurled the ball at the stacked milk bottles.
All three crashed to the ground.
Ryan turned, his mouth pressed into a big smile. “Bull’s-eye.”
“I guess you’ve become a better shot,” she said, her mind still on Ryan’s reference to his youth. Curious about where he grew up, she was about to ask him about what town he meant, but the hawker turned back and his exclamation cut off her thought.
“Man, oh, man!” he shouted. “One shot and they’re down!” He pointed to the stuffed animals hanging from a string suspended around the stall. “Choose your prize.”
Ryan looked quizzically at her. “You choose.”
She stared at him, surprised. “Oh, no—”
“I insist. As a thank-you for coming with me tonight.”
Inclining her head in agreement, she nodded and looked up. Every animal under the sun hung from that string, but one immediately caught her eye. A small stuffed bear with fur the color of Ryan’s hair. She pointed. “That one.”
The hawker unhooked the cute little bear from the string with a hook and handed it to her. “A bear for the lucky lady.”
She took the bear, feeling its soft, plush fur. “He’s adorable. I used to collect stuffed animals. My room was full of them.”
“Which was your favorite?” Ryan asked, taking her hand again to lead her back into the crowd.
Trying to ignore the warmth traveling from his hand up her arms, she said, “Probably a hippo named Retep.”
He looked down at her, his brow knitted. “Retep?”
“I named all of my animals after people I care about.”
“Who in the world is Retep?”
She laughed. “My father. It’s Peter spelled backward.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I know, I know, it’s weird. What can I say? I was a strange little kid.”
“So what are you going to name that bear?” He pointed to her bear.
Nayr immediately popped into her brain. It seemed appropriate to name the bear after the man who had won it for her. But she didn’t really want to read too much into their “relationship,” and naming the bear after Ryan seemed much too personal. “I don’t know yet,” she said. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Hand in hand, feeling more and more like they were a genuine couple on a date, Anna walked with Ryan up the midway toward the rides and food vendors, her unease growing bit by bit.
When they reached the giant Ferris wheel, Ryan led her into the line of people waiting to get on. “Let’s ride.”
She pulled back on his hand and looked up at the ride, towering at least fifty feet above them. “Uh, I don’t know. I'm sort of… afraid of high places.”
He wrapped a solid arm around her shoulder. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll get a bird’s-eye-view of the whole carnival. You can hold on to me.”
The thought of holding on to Ryan was almost as frightening—yet exciting—as thinking about riding the Ferris wheel. Trying to ignore how good his arm felt draped around her shoulders, she reluctantly let him take her back into the line. “I’m not sure about this, Ryan.”
He looked at her, then pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. “If you're really afraid, then we won’t ride. But I think you'll like it. The view is amazing.”
Ryan’s mouth so close to her ear and his big, muscular body pressed to her side sent hot chills radiating into her body. Oh, he felt so good and solid and warm and smelled so good…
The line moved forward and she let herself be swept along, her crazy desire to stay close to Ryan overwhelming her fear of the ride. Ryan gave the man at the gate their tickets, and before long, they were seated side by side in the slightly swinging car.
The ride lurched to a start, and a rush of fear raced through Anna. With a squeak she closed her eyes and she instinctively pressed closer to Ryan.
He put his arm around her again and drew her to him. She pressed her face into his large shoulder and gripped his coat with one hand, her bear in the other.
“I guess there’s something to be said for your fear,” he huskily murmured into her ear again. “I like having you this close.”
Her fear overrode the significance of what he was saying. Paralyzed, she willed the car to stop swaying. They moved higher and higher, stopping every time a car needed to be loaded, until they stopped at the very top of the wheel.
“Anna,” he said gently. “Open your eyes and take a look.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid.”
“I know.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But sometimes we need to face our fears to conquer them. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Maybe it was silly for her to be so frightened of this. Maybe she should at least try to face her fear. She could always close her eyes again if she was too nervous. Mustering her courage, she slowly opened her eyes, then lifted her head from his shoulder, her stomach dropping when the car swayed slightly at the motion.
She froze and let out another little squeak, squeezed her eyes closed again and grabbed for Ryan’s hand.
“It’s okay,” Ryan said soothingly, stroking her hand. “The car is supposed to move a little. Open your eyes now so you can enjoy the view.”
She nodded and opened her eyes bit by bit.
Ryan looked at her, smiling. “Brave girl. Look around.”
Afraid to move, she just moved her eyes from one side to the other. “Very nice,” she said, her mouth barely moving.
He chuckled. “You can move your head, you know. I promise, it’ll be worth it. You can see clear across the river from here.”
Nodding, she slowly turned her head to take in the view spread out before them.
And he was right. It was worth it.
The lights on the tents and the neon lights of the other rides, twirling and spinning below them, looked like bright, multicolored jewels glowing and moving in the dark. Further out she could see the Willamette River, flowing deep and wide as it moved through the middle of Portland, a giant ribbon of water. Several boats festooned with festive lights bobbed on th
e river in the darkness. The cars moving across the bridges spanning the river were visible, their headlights and taillights adding to the riot of colors before her.
She felt like they were on the top of the world.
The Ferris wheel started to move again, and a flash of fear moved through her. She gripped Ryan’s hand but kept her eyes open, enjoying the panorama before her.
Ryan squeezed her shoulder and eased her close, resting his chin on her head. Acting on instinct, she snuggled down in next to him, feeling a strange sense of contentment move through her.
The Ferris wheel moved silently in the darkness, around and around. Relaxing, she let go of her fear and simply enjoyed the sights spread out in front of her and the feel of Ryan sitting beside her, his wonderful scent surrounding her, the warmth of his body seeping into hers.
And for a time, the rest of the world, and her fear, ceased to exist.
The Ferris wheel ride ended all too soon, although Anna acknowledged that it was probably for the best. She really shouldn’t let herself enjoy Ryan’s presence so much, especially not how wonderful his arms felt around her.
Past experience told her she could never let herself fall for him.
They stepped off the ride and made their way to the food area of the carnival. Anna had vowed to stay away from junky, fat-laden food, so she was delighted when she discovered a food stall selling grilled veggie pitas.
She ordered her pita, and Ryan ordered a huge double burger and fries from a starry-eyed teenage girl who couldn’t stop ogling him. He met her shy stares with an appealing smile and silly joke. After he paid, she gave him an extra order of fries on the house.
He definitely knew how to turn on the charm.
Apprehension suddenly filled Anna. What if he decided to turn his considerable charm on her again? She didn’t even want to think about it.
Anna followed him until they found a spot at a small table in the far corner of one of the huge dining tents. After they sat, her knees bumped Ryan’s under the table and a crazy giddiness swamped her. She froze, wanting to leave her knees where they were, pressed up against his. But she couldn’t let herself enjoy his touch or even let herself like him too much. Nothing could come of it except an aching heart and shattered dreams.
