Take My Breath Away

by Christie Ridgway

  The kid shrugged. “The way he looks at my mom. Sorta how Grimm watches me eat a burger.”

  “Like...slobbery?”

  “Yeah. Icky.”

  Ryan’s belly tightened, though he tried reminding himself that the way he looked at Poppy probably wasn’t much better. But he was going to warn her about icky Ivan, he decided as he mounted the steps, Mason and Grimm on his heels. She should at least know the man was raising a cereal-stealer.

  Once on the terrace, the sound of their approach caused Poppy to spin their way, cell still at her ear. She looked like spring, Ryan thought, in her tight jeans and a pale yellow hippie-styled shirt embroidered with thread the same color. A blue ribbon was tied around the end of her braid. Then he took in her anxious expression. It hurried him forward, and as he watched she ended her call and slid her phone in her pocket.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, toe-to-toe with her. His gaze scanned her face, and he thought he saw that she had her own ghosts in her pretty gray eyes. “Who was that on the phone?”

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “I haven’t a care in the world.” The non sequitur was topped with a smile for her son. It was bright as a toothpaste ad but couldn’t fool Ryan. “Hey, buddy. How about we make some cookies in that big, fancy kitchen?”

  The kid cheered, but Ryan went on further alert. Oh, yeah. Something had pushed Poppy into baker mode...and he had the strong sense that it wasn’t what had happened between them the night before. Looking at him, she hadn’t colored, she hadn’t looked away, she hadn’t seemed much aware of him at all. Clearly there was another source of her disquiet.

  As she hustled off her son and dog, Ryan called after her. “We’ll be having a long talk later.” When she threw him a confused glance over her shoulder, he didn’t regret the promise.

  Though not for a moment did he forget that delving into Poppy’s psyche had been a thing he’d been desperate to evade.

  * * *

  POPPY STOOD IN the hall, just outside the archway leading to the lake house’s family room. Clamping down on her fear, she tried to keep the shrillness from her voice. “Mason, you just use that one sheet of paper to gently nudge the spider onto the other piece on the floor. Then you can walk it to the back terrace and let it go free outside.”

  Her son was crouched low, elbows on his knees, as he studied the biggest, ugliest spider that Poppy had ever seen. It wasn’t a poisonous type, like a black widow or a brown recluse—she could identify those. This was your average, everyday house spider.

  And just looking at it made her sweat.

  She gave her son an encouraging smile. “You can do it, Mace.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  At the sound of Ryan’s voice, Poppy started, and her already jittery nerves did another little dance. She glanced over her shoulder at him then quickly looked away. Now that the distraction of Denny was no longer in her ear, the merest glimpse of Ryan set the memories of last night in his bed shuffling through her head. His mouth scalding her throat, his teeth on her skin, his hands holding her hips steady... A hot rush of goose bumps ran over her flesh and she was afraid if he came a single inch closer she might melt into a puddle at his feet.

  Which would bring her much too close to that arachnid.

  “Poppy?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m showing Mason how we take care of spiders. He’s going to relocate our eight-legged friend outside.”

  Ryan moved nearer her son and bent to inspect the horrid thing, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a big one.”

  She fisted her hands to fight off a shudder. “Mmm.”

  “Do you want me to show you how a guy handles a spider like this, kid?”

  Her little boy was already shuffling back, his gaze trained on Ryan. She wondered if the man had any idea how Mason looked up to him. “Go ahead, Duke,” Mason said.

  Ryan stepped up to the spider—and then stepped on it.

  Poppy gasped, staring as he used one of the papers to scoop up the flattened carcass. Ryan balled both sheets then strode into the family room, she and Mason trailing behind.

  Without giving them a glance, he crossed to the fireplace and tossed the crumpled mass into the crackling, leaping flames.

  “I—I—” Poppy wet her lips. “I was intending a more humane method of disposal.”

  He sent her a look. “Sorry. No hero here.” Then he passed by her on the way to the wet bar. “Shame on you,” he murmured for her ears only, “getting your kid to do the dirty work.”

  Her face burned. “It’s a phobia,” she muttered to his back.

  He returned to her holding two stemless wineglasses half-filled with a garnet-colored wine. “Now that dinner’s over and Linus has repaired to who knows where, I thought we could have that chat I mentioned before.”

  Poppy’s fingers automatically closed around the glass before the intent of his words sank in. A chat? She glanced around the room to find Mason paging through a picture book they’d left there earlier. A chat about what? Ryan had mentioned one before, just after she’d wrapped up her phone call with Denny. She certainly didn’t want to tell him about that conversation.

  And surely Ryan wouldn’t want to talk about...

  Last night. In his dimly lit suite. Her mind wandered there once more and images flashed through it, again slide-show-style. His hand binding her wrists. Her fingers twined in his hair. Ryan, still half-dressed, between her legs, his wide shoulders keeping her naked thighs spread for the exploration of his mouth.

  Her body went hot all over at the memory. Yes, they didn’t need to have any kind of chat about anything.

  Ryan already knew enough about her.

  She took a bracing sip of her wine. “I’m sorry—no time to talk. Mason and I have before-bedtime plans.” And knowing Ryan—and knowing why—he’d find an excuse to avoid being with her son. Another swallow of the liquid in her glass went down her throat, the taste like raspberry and smoke against her tongue. “I found some board games in a closet today.”

  “What games?” Mason asked, looking up from the book.

  “There’s Candy Land.”

  Both males in the room made the same disgusted face. Okay, it wasn’t her favorite, either, but surely it would send Ryan running.

  “Candy Land is for babies,” her son said. “I’d rather draw.”

  A gleam of satisfaction came into Ryan’s eyes. “Then—”

  “We’ll play Go Fish. I found that, as well.”

  Mason considered, nodded then shot a look at the spider-slayer. It occurred to Poppy that Ryan’s decisive action had only given her son another reason to admire him. Sigh.

  “You’ll play, too, won’t you, Duke?”

  Knowing the forthcoming answer, Poppy took another swallow of wine. Then choked on it when the man agreed. She goggled at him, but his expression was unreadable as the three of them found places on the expansive, soft-cushioned couch placed before the fire, with Mason in the middle.

  The males played the game with much seriousness. Ryan accused her of cheating to help her son win—and since he was right she had to deny it with a vigor that made amusement spark in his eyes. Their gazes met over Mason’s head and a horrible, dangerous longing bloomed in her chest, making it hard to breathe. What if she could have him like this every day, every night?

  But since she knew that was impossible, she tore her attention away, looking everywhere but at him. The family room was as elegant and well-appointed as anything in a glossy magazine, with its gleaming floors and enormous marble-fronted fireplace. A baby grand piano sat in one corner of the room and there was an entire wall of mullioned windows that in the daytime presented yet another breathtaking lake view. Now the fire was reflected in the glass, the gold and red as rich as everything else about the estate.

 
Poppy supposed a woman like herself, raised in a home much more humble, might feel intimidated. But the fact was, the Walkers were an arrogant lot, unimpressed by baubles and stacks of cash. They’d come to the untamed peaks with their oxen and their iron will, facing down any and all who got in the way of their holding a piece of the California mountains. Once they had it, they’d considered themselves wealthier than the whole world.

  “What have you heard from your family?” Ryan asked, as if he’d read her mind—or was trying to initiate that chat he’d claimed to want.

  But this was a safe topic. She glanced at Mason, who had gathered the cards and was separating them into piles with little-boy busyness. “My brother, Brett, has been out of town, it turns out. I’ve been ignoring my sisters’ calls and instead have been taking their scoldings via text message.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Why?”

  Ryan shrugged. “You know Linus.”

  “Not that much.” Other than he was charming, boyishly elegant and deeply concerned about his brother. Oh, and that he thought she should stay with Ryan for the rest of March.

  “You know Linus cooks. He can also do a decent soft shoe.”

  Poppy blinked, fascinated. Her own brother refused to sway on the dance floor even at weddings. “Can you?”

  “When you get me drunk enough.”

  She directed her glance to his wineglass sitting on the end table by his elbow. He’d refilled both of theirs not long before.

  “It would take a lot more than a couple of glasses of grape juice,” he said, and a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  The sight of it made her belly tense and the bite mark on her thigh suddenly throbbed. Oxygen seemed bottled up in her chest as that dangerous longing surged through her again. Afraid he might see it on her face, she looked away. Mason had abandoned the Go Fish cards to curl up on his cushion and was quickly heading toward sleep. It was a good excuse to get up and carry him to bed. After that, she could hide out in her room.

  But the fire was beautiful and the wine had mellowed her and...and she didn’t want to leave Ryan’s company quite yet. Running her finger around the rim of her wineglass, she stared into the liquid. “My brother has a landscaping company. He used to be in the army—10th Mountain Division. He’s back now, at turns quiet and cranky.”

  “And your sisters?”

  “Mackenzie, she’s older than me, runs a housekeeping business. I saw one of her cards in your kitchen.”

  “I’m not sure who we usually use. I have an assistant who makes a call to a service when I plan to be up here.”

  Poppy grinned. “If you get the chance to meet my sister, she’ll likely talk you into using hers.”

  “And the other...Shay?”

  “Tutors when needed, does nanny work. She just got a new job as a...well, it sounds sort of like a governess, actually. One of your neighbors at the lake has a teenager. Shay is living at the estate and homeschooling the girl.”

  “I still don’t understand why they’re so against developing the cabins.”

  She shrugged, thinking of how to explain family history and family dynamics. “Our dad was a dreamer. An impractical one, and it caused a lot of contention between him and our mom, on and off throughout their marriage. He was so focused on keeping that last tract of land that he made bad financial decisions. When everything fell apart, he took a mining job in South America.”

  “Tough,” Ryan said.

  “And it got tougher.” She sipped at her wine. “My mom—and to be fair, she couldn’t be certain Dad would come back—had an affair that resulted in Shay. That relationship went poof and then our father returned...and he and Mom patched things up. He accepted my sister as his own and never treated her differently than the other three of us.”

  “Then he was a good man.”

  “Yes.” There was a sting of tears in Poppy’s eyes. “It’s one of the reasons I don’t want us Walkers to abandon the property that meant so much to him.”

  “But your siblings are adamant about not cooperating with you?”

  “They think I’m a dreamer, same as my dad. But all his ideas weren’t failures—and I want to prove to them this one isn’t.”

  “Do they really believe the land’s cursed?”

  She shrugged. “With bad memories for sure. After the fire there, dad’s stress over the situation caused the heart attack that killed him. But I think if we can make something of the cabins, then we can make some good memories, too. It would be dad’s true legacy. And my mother’s, too, when it comes to that. I’m so glad Mom gave him a second chance.”

  Which was why when Denny phoned today, she’d not instantly hung up. At some level, ever since she’d heard he’d been asking about her, she’d expected the call. In a small community like theirs, her number was easy to uncover. Her surprise had been from what he claimed to want—a chance to get to know his son.

  While part of her recoiled at the idea, given that he’d never expressed any interest before, her conscience couldn’t immediately put the kibosh on it. What if he’d changed? She would never take up with him again, that was over, but could she deny him a chance to be a father to Mason?

  Ryan had influenced her there. His love for his boy and his grief that Tate was gone made her not immediately refuse her ex. But she was being careful, and had told Denny she needed time to fully consider the situation.

  “I hope that’s what you’ll find, Poppy,” Ryan said in a quiet voice. “A man who’ll love you and have an open heart for your son.”

  Glancing over at him, her own heart stopped, then did another of those pancake flips in her chest, exposing once again its soft, vulnerable underbelly. Because, though Ryan was staring into the fire, his fingers were lightly sifting through her son’s hair. The gesture was tender and sweet and she knew he had no awareness of it whatsoever.

  A man who’ll love you and have an open heart for your son, Ryan had said. The words raked at her. Poppy knew for certain Ryan’s statement wouldn’t ever, couldn’t ever, refer to himself.

  Because when it came right down to it, she now knew him quite well, too.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  FROM YOU SEND ME, a screenplay by Linus Hamilton:

  EXT. BLUE ARROW LAKE—NIGHT

  LINUS and CHARLIE are snuggled side by side at the rear of a small powerboat. The lake gently rocks them as they gaze upward, enjoying the weekly fireworks display while surrounded by other boaters, some in kayaks, some on large, flat-bottomed party boats. The rockets are launched from a platform in the middle of the lake and the various hues of the subsequent explosions wash over the faces of CHARLIE and LINUS. Once the incendiaries flame out, ash and some still-glowing tiny embers rain into the water, landing with little hisses.

  LINUS

  That was a good one.

  CHARLIE squeaks in mild alarm as ash falls around them again and LINUS tucks her closer, kisses her temple. Another boom sounds, and colors flower in the sky above.

  CHARLIE

  I’ve never been this close. Are you sure it’s safe?

  LINUS

  Anything spectacular requires a bit of risk.

  LINUS looks over at CHARLIE, whose face is turned up to the sky. His fascinated gaze doesn’t leave her as the red and blue and yellow light up her face.

  LINUS

  (casually)

  I’ve been meaning to tell you...

  CHARLIE

  What’s that?

  LINUS

  I have a couple of invitations to an upcoming red carpet movie premiere. Big after-party following it, too. We can dress snazzy, drink too much, then fall asleep in a limo on the way home at dawn. How does that sound?

  CHARLIE stills.

  CHARLIE

  Where
and when?

  LINUS

  (even more casually than before)

  L.A., natch. Labor Day weekend.

  CHARLIE

  September?

  LINUS

  (tightly, he suspects this won’t go his way)

  That’s when Labor Day normally occurs, right?

  Ash falls down around them, but this time CHARLIE doesn’t seem aware.

  CHARLIE

  (quietly, almost to herself)

  September.

  Then CHARLIE looks at LINUS and shakes her head.

  CHARLIE

  I couldn’t, Linus. There are...boundaries.

  LINUS

  What kind of boundaries? Geographical? Chronological?

  CHARLIE

  Come September, yes.

  * * *

  CHARLIE SCOOPED UP another spoonful of crème brûlée and caught Linus staring as she brought it to her mouth. Making a face, she halted without taking the bite. “It’s weird to eat when you’re not.”

  “I told you,” he said, leaning back in their horseshoe-shaped booth at Mr. Frank’s. “I already had dinner.”

  “With my cousin and her son and your brother. How’s them staying with you guys working out?”

  He gave a light shrug, but she could tell it didn’t dislodge the heavy weight he carried on his shoulders. In summer, they’d hardly spoken of family and friends. It had been an interlude belonging only to them—a time for sunshine, sweet talk and sizzling kisses.