by Lissa Manley
Being necessarily sensible, she slid back on her seat, her bear on her lap. But the tiny table/big Ryan combination made it impossible to escape his knees without falling off her chair. Desperate to keep his physical effect on her to a minimum, she tilted her legs at an uncomfortable side angle, trying to stay focused on her reasons for agreeing to come here with him.
Forget the romantic Ferris wheel ride and Ryan’s kindness to those boys. Make him promise to help end this whole chronicle disaster right away.
Ryan dug into his food with gusto, obviously enjoying the greasy burger. Anna found her closeness to him had twisted her stomach into a lump and chased her appetite away.
“You like to eat, don’t you?” she asked, smiling.
He inclined his head. “Yeah, I do. My… uh, my mom was a terrible cook, so I really appreciate good food.”
She dubiously eyed the large basket of food in front of him. “That’s good food?”
He held up a fry coated in ketchup. “Hey, this might not be gourmet eats, but it’s filling and delicious.”
Suddenly her veggie pita didn’t look very appetizing.
Ryan chewed his burger, then threw her a questioning look. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
She gave him a wan smile. “Uh, sure.” She fiddled with the edge of her paper plate. “In a minute.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You’re still upset, aren’t you?”
Now that he’d brought it up, she most certainly was. Even though she knew he was referring to her upcoming stint on the front page, which was bothering her, she was really more upset about how he always seemed to rattle her physically and emotionally, how he made her want to actually believe in true love. Even though she was wrapped up in the fantasy of weddings, true love wasn’t something she could ever let herself believe in again.
She took a shaky breath and nodded. “I’m trying to look at the bright side and not worry about the picture, but my father…” She trailed off, belatedly realizing that she’d need to be careful talking about her father.
“Your father sounds like quite a guy.”
She nibbled on a corner of her pita. “He’s something else, all right. Men in his family aren’t known for their gentleness, tact, nor understanding.”
Ryan hesitated, a far off look in his eyes. “Yeah, I know how that is.” He took a bite of his burger and chewed.
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Was your father the same way?” she asked, her earlier curiosity about Ryan’s family and youth coming back to her.
“Yeah,” he bit out.
His reaction surprised her. “So you know what it’s like to grow up with a father who expects too much?” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Let’s keep the conversation on you, okay? My family’s not up for discussion.”
She sat back in her chair, a little stung. “Relax. I didn’t mean to pry.” Although she was interested in why he was so unwilling to talk about his family. What was he hiding?
He inclined his head. All right. Go on about your father.”
“Well, he’s used to getting what he wants, and he’s always had very specific ideas about what I should be doing. Now he wants me to join the family business instead of being a designer.” She smiled wryly. “We’ve been butting heads my whole life.”
“Have you tried talking to him about this?
She shifted uneasily. “Some.” Probably not enough due to her insane desire not to rock the boat. “But my father isn’t easily swayed. I’m an only child, and he truly believes it’s my duty to follow in his footsteps.”
She sadly wondered if her father would ever understand how much she wanted to succeed at something of her own choosing, how much she wanted to carve her own path.
He wanted something from her that she couldn’t give—the sacrifice of her dreams. She longed for the day when he would appreciate her choices, the day he would deem her worthy of his respect.
The day he would love her for who she was rather than what he wanted her to be.
“So why worry about what he thinks at all?” Ryan asked, breaking into her thoughts. “Just do what you want to do.”
She snagged one of his fries and nibbled on it, savoring the greasy, salty taste. “I could, but he is my father, and despite his overbearing ways, I do love him. I’m hoping to show him that being a bridal designer isn’t just some pipe dream, that’s it’s something I can succeed at.”
Ryan wiped his mouth with his napkin and pinned her in place with his darkening blue eyes. “You’re lucky he cares about you at all.” He abruptly went back to his burger.
She stared at him, wanting to know what had put the unexpected shadows in his eyes, what had obliterated his earlier good mood. Even though he’d made it clear that his family wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, she couldn’t help but ask, “You sound like you speak from experience. About caring, I mean.”
“Or not caring,” he muttered around his bite of hamburger.
Her insides tightened. “Did your parents not care about you?”
He finished chewing. “Like I said, my family isn’t up for discussion.” He picked up a fry and pointed at her with it. “Just be glad someone, somewhere cares about you.”
“Yes, well, my father might care about me, even though he shows it in an odd way, but I’ve met a lot of people who only care about themselves.”
“Oh, yeah? Like who?”
Oh, Giorgio, Randall, Jeffrey and Sam. She couldn’t possibly tell him about how she’d made so many bad choices and blithely allowed so many men to reel her in with their good looks and charm.
She fidgeted and stared down at her food, suddenly sure she was making a huge mistake again. Here she was, sitting across from a man who had the power to blind her with his appeal and draw her in for the kill.
What was she doing, cozying up to another charismatic, gorgeous man?
“Hey.” He took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
His hand surrounded hers like warm steel. She looked at their entwined hands, his dark and large, hers pale and small.
A shiver of delight moved through her.
She liked the way her hand looked in his. And though she would always have her mom as a positive influence in her life, she still felt like there was a place inside of her where she’d been alone for a long, long time. A dark, hollow place that craved her father’s approval and desperately wanted him to love her for who she was.
But that wasn’t a space any man besides her father could ever fill. Seeing her hand in Ryan’s reminded her of the truth.
He didn’t care about her.
He was being nice to her and lending an ear and taking her on romantic carnival rides simply because he had an ulterior motive, just like every other man in her life.
Finally thinking clearly, she disengaged her hand from his and shot to her feet, clutching her bear in her hand. “I have to go.”
And then she walked quickly from the tent, chiding herself. Because deep down inside she wished Ryan did care about her.
And that was as foolish a dream as wishing for her father’s respect.
“Anna!” Ryan called, taken off guard by her unexpected departure. Vaguely worried, he rose and dashed after her, dodging tables. Why was she running away? One minute they were having a nice conversation, the next she was gone. She didn’t seem like the type to run away from anybody unless something was really, really wrong.
Thankfully he was quicker than she was. He caught her behind the tent on the path that ran along the concrete wall next to the river. “Hey, wait!” He snagged her elbow.
She spun around, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “Ryan, no. Let go.”
“Only if you promise to stay put.”
She considered him briefly, her eyes dark, gently pulling her arm from his grip. “I shouldn’t.”
He swiped a hand over his face. “Why not?”
“Look, can’t you be mean or something and make this easier for both of us?”
&nbs
p; He drew in his chin. “What?”
“Do something heartless.”
“You want me to be heartless?” He screwed his face into a scowl. “Are you crazy?”
“Probably,” she muttered, looking disgusted with herself. “I just want you to prove me right.”
He shook his head slowly, totally confused. He took her elbow again, trying to ignore how soft her skin felt and how heat blossomed in him every time he touched her. “Right about what?” he asked, admiring her pretty brown eyes. “Tell me. Right now.”
She searched his face briefly. “Let go and I’ll tell you.”
“Fair enough.” He released her.
She stepped back, nibbled on her bottom lip, and pressed her stuffed bear to her chest. “Look, I’m sorry I… ran off. I just… well, the thing is… when you…”
“Spit it out—”
“You’re pretending to be a nice guy, aren’t you? You’re pretending to have a heart.”
“Pretending?” He slapped his forehead. “Dopey me. My blood just flows through my body all by itself.”
“Ha, ha,” she said without humor. She looked off to the side and shifted from foot to foot.
He grunted. “It was supposed to be a joke and you look like a bee flew up your nose.” He tried to look at her down-turned face without success. He straightened and let out a heavy breath. “Why do you think I’m putting on some act?”
She huffed. “Because… someone took advantage of me and I was too dumb to see it in time, all right?” She pressed a hand to her mouth, looking like she was sorry she’d blurted that out.
Fire filled his chest, but he stifled his outrage to focus on the heart of the matter. Some guy had hurt her. To his surprise, her thinking that he was like some other jerk bothered him. Sure, he avoided serious romantic relationships to avoid the kind of slicing scorn Sonya had doled out to him. But he wasn’t a liar and he wasn’t pretending he was anything more or less than he was.
“Anna, I’m anything but heartless. And I don’t think you’re dumb.”
“I was the queen of dumb,” she replied under her breath, then turned her clear brown eyes upward. “And how can I be sure you’re not like… him?”
He held her gaze so she’d know he wasn’t feeding her a line. “First of all, I’m always a man of my word. So when I say I’m not pretending, I’m not. And second, the key word in ‘I was the queen of dumb’ is ‘was.’ As in past tense. Over and done with. We all make mistakes—”
“You haven’t. You’ve probably had the perfect life.”
He almost laughed out loud. She was so wrong, but he wasn’t going to set the record straight. He’d worked his butt off to transform himself from the scraggly, hungry, neglected kid he’d been into the polished, successful man he was today. He’d had to fight like hell to rebound from what Sonya had thought of him—that he wasn’t good enough. It would be difficult, maybe impossible, for him to admit to his squalid past.
Hell, he hadn’t even been able to admit to the real reason that he liked to eat so much—because he’d grown up starving.
He turned away, wanting to hide any truth his expression might have held. “Yeah. Whatever.” She viewed him exactly as he wanted everyone to see him—as a success from day one—and he wasn’t about to ruin that image.
She would never see him in the same light if he did.
She was silent, so he turned to look at her, hoping she would drop the subject. What he saw was worse than any question she could ask him. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and that killed him. He stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, honey—”
She jerked away. “Don’t call me honey.”
“Why not?” he asked, trying to keep up with the twists and turns of her mind and their conversation.
“Because I like it too much!” She cut the air with both hands. “I like it when you’re nice to me, and I like it when you call me honey, and I know it’s all just an act.”
He was flabbergasted, and strangely pleased, that he liked it when he called her “honey.” “Hey, I already told you, it’s not an act,” he reiterated, surprised by how much he wanted her to believe him. He gently cupped her shoulders and stared right into her eyes again, willing her to trust him. “I swear it’s not an act.”
She stared at him like he’d grown an extra nose. “Don’t you get it? Lies are easy to tell. I just can’t be sure I can trust you.” Her voice cracked and moisture pooled in her big, walnut-colored eyes.
And that almost broke his heart.
Acting on the instinct to soothe and protect her, he slid his arms from her shoulders around her back and pulled her close. She reared back, then crumpled against him, the bear still clutched in one hand.
Damn but he loved the feel of her small, slender body against his. “Hey, now, it can’t be that bad,” he murmured against her hair, inhaling the floral scent of her shampoo. Heat pooled in the lower half of his body and his heart expanded.
She snuffled against her shirt. “But it is. Men always want something from me.”
“Well, thank you so much for grouping me in with all the other jerks,” he said in a light voice, masking the hurt her statement caused.
She looked at him, clearly seeing behind his mask. “I’m sorry to put it that way, but I trusted a handsome, charming guy like you once, and he broke my heart.”
The bastard. He understood her pain too well and wanted to pound the creep who’d hurt her into the pavement.
Out of necessity, Ryan ignored his primal instincts and focused on what she’d told him, which explained a lot. She was afraid to trust him because some creep had used her. He got that. Man, did he get that.
He tugged her back against him, crazily wishing he could turn back the clock and protect her from the sleazeball who’d done such a number on her. “Hon— Anna. I could never hurt you.”
She lifted her head but didn’t put any space between them. Her eyes shimmered in the approaching dark. “Then promise me this whole Bridal Chronicle thing is over. I know it would be good for your charity, and it bothers me that I have to ask you this. But I really, really don’t want any more pictures printed.”
He looked at her mouth as she spoke, wanting to close the distance between them and kiss her until his desire for her to trust him somehow magically seeped into her. But kissing her would be a mistake. After all the pain and bewilderment every “loving” relationship in his life had caused, he had to play it safe.
And he had to give her what she wanted.
Well, he didn’t have to, but damn if he didn’t want to. He wasn’t about to add to Anna’s troubles with any more media exposure. She reminded him so much of himself, trying to make something of herself, trying to prove that she could make it, despite the odds. He didn’t want to jeopardize that, even if it would be good for the Mentor A Child Foundation. He could always find another way to raise awareness for them.
“All right,” he told her, running his hands up and down her smooth, silky arms. “I can do that.”
She smiled shakily at him, exposing straight, pearly teeth. “Thank you.” She stood on her tiptoes, aiming her mouth for his cheek. He saw the chaste kiss coming and wanted to turn his head and catch her mouth with his and kiss her long, hard and deep. But he held back, taming his rebellious sanity. Her soft, full lips grazed his cheek and he bit back a groan.
She stepped back, her eyes wide. She pressed a hand he could have sworn was trembling to her mouth. “Sorry.” She spun around, her head bent, and skittered over to lean against the concrete wall overlooking the river.
He stood frozen, trying to regain his control. He sure as hell liked Anna, and her soft kiss was the sexiest thing he’d come across in years. But he couldn’t forget his cutting experiences with Sonya any more than Anna could forget the men who had hurt her.
He wanted to help her succeed. That was it.
He refused to let her affect him on any other level.
Chapter Five
Anna sat cro
ss-legged on a large pillow in her hotel room, meditating, newly christened Nayr the Teddy bear on her lap. For some reason, she’d given in to temptation and named him after Ryan.
Earlier, she’d called the hotel switchboard and asked them to hold all calls. She’d then put her favorite CD in her portable CD player, intending to get rid of the turmoil that had rocked her world since her brain had quit functioning and she’d lost herself into Ryan’s arms at the Fun Center three days ago.
Even though she was supposed to be clearing her mind, she couldn’t get rid of one thought:
What in the world am I doing?
How had she let herself get caught up in Ryan? She should have kept her distance at the Fun Center, but instead had plastered herself against his hard, broad chest—and had loved being there! And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the feeling of his rough cheek against her mouth when she’d kissed his cheek still haunted her.
What would it be like to actually kiss him?
The mere thought sent heat billowing through her body.
Dear heaven, was she falling for another man like all of the other scheming, looked-good-on-the-outside but rotten-on-the-inside-men she’d foolishly trusted? Her stomach tightened. She could not make the same mistakes again. She wouldn’t let herself.
She was stronger now, and had learned from her past mistakes. She was determined to succeed as a humble bridal designer, not as Anna Sinclair, so she needed to fall back on the things that always helped her get back on track.
Reassured, she resumed her meditation, soothed by the pounding tempo of the CD she’d chosen. After she meditated, she’d start reading that self-help book on “making the right choices” that she’d purchased.
After that, she had several designs that needed work—a velvet and fur fantasy gown she’d been designing for winter weddings, a simple, classic sleeveless silk sheath for summer, and a traditional lacy gown with a sweetheart neckline, bell-shaped skirt, and poofed sleeves that a Southern belle would wear. Thank goodness she had plenty of things to do instead of thinking about Ryan, and she had plenty of time to do it. She couldn’t return to Philadelphia until Mr. Lewis, the president of Perfect Bridal, returned from attending to a family emergency on the east coast. This was the ideal opportunity to retreat, regroup and forget Ryan.
