by Sharon Sala
But no one told him he’d be sleeping on the floor for the next twelve months.
The long, unmistakable rasp of a large metal zipper being undone plucked at her conscience. The sleeping bag.
She rolled over on her back and opened her eyes. Although the king-size bed took up a lot of space in the bedroom, there was still ample room in which to move about. Their sleeping arrangements could do with an overhaul. Maybe if she traded the king-size bed for two twin-size ones—
Her nerves shifted into higher gear. That would be fair, but it would also increase the intimacy of their sleeping arrangements. She trusted herself to cope with it, but could she trust the man who was now her husband to stay in his own bed and on his own side of the room?
Well, why not? They were adults. Hopefully, two responsible adults. Nothing was going to happen. Having satisfied herself with what seemed a plausible solution, she sighed with exhaustion.
Lord, but it felt good to lie down. At the same time, she realized that she was here in bed, fed, bathed and resting because Ryder Justice had seen to it. She rolled back over on her stomach and burrowed her nose a little deeper into her pillow, savoring the knowledge that someone cared enough about her to make a scene. What she couldn’t do was make a big deal out of it. Ryder Justice was simply passing through her life, not becoming a part of it.
* * *
Ryder couldn’t sleep. The floor was hard. The covers hot. He kicked them back, leaving his body bare to the night, and still the cool flow of air blowing across his arms and legs could not ease the tension coiling within him.
Images kept popping into his mind. Casey alone at her desk. Casey in the other room, alone in that bed. He sat up with a jerk and reached for his jeans. Get out. Get out now before you make a mistake you can’t fix.
Ryder didn’t hesitate. He didn’t need to know whether it was conscience or gut instinct warning him off. All he knew was he had to put some distance between himself and the woman who was his wife.
Grabbing his boots, he exited the apartment, then sat down at the top of the landing to put them on. The air outside felt thick, almost too warm and too stifling to breathe. Perspiration instantly broke the surface of his skin. He stood, then started down the stairs with no goal in mind other than to move.
Security lights dotted the grounds of the vast estate, highlighting the driveways, the doors to the house, and the area just inside the rim of trees circling the lawns. Down on the highway outside the city, he heard an eighteen-wheeler shifting gears as the driver maneuvered around a curve in the road.
Crickets rasped. A night bird called. A stringy cloud floated past the surface of a pale half-moon. Ryder lifted his head, inhaling the scents, absorbing the sounds. Ordinary sounds. But there was nothing ordinary about his situation, and there hadn’t been since he’d walked out on his life six months earlier.
For lack of a better destination, he aimed for the trees at the far edge of the estate. It felt good to move, to be doing something besides lying in the dark and wishing for something he couldn’t have. He glanced up at the mansion as he passed, trying to imagine what it would be like to grow up in such an austere environment. He’d had wide open spaces and brothers. Horses to ride and endless days of childhood where nothing ever changed and the status quo was your security blanket with which to sleep each night.
Music drifted to him from somewhere out beyond the ring of lights, probably from a passing car. It reminded him of the nights at home when he and Roman and Royal had been kids; of watching his mother and father dancing cheek to cheek out on the front porch while an old portable radio played nearby. He wiped a shaky hand across his face, remembering the night Barbara Justice had died leaving Micah to raise their three young sons alone.
Ryder paused, blindly reaching for the nearest tree as his composure crumpled.
You were the strong one, Daddy. You survived everything… except what I did to you.
Long, silent moments passed while Ryder stood in judgment of himself. Moments in which his heart broke and bled countless times over. And finally, it was the sound of laughter from another passing car that brought him to his senses.
Laughter. Proof that life does go on.
Angry that he was still part of that life, he moved deeper into the trees and away from temptation, unaware that he was being watched from the upper windows of the family home.
* * *
When Ryder moved out of sight, Erica stepped away from the window and flopped down on her bed, but the intensity of her conversation with Miles was still going strong. Although it was not necessary, she caught herself whispering into the phone.
“I said, I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s not sleeping in our dear sister’s bed, that’s for sure.”
New Orleans at midnight was lively. More than once, Miles had given serious thought to never going home. He downed the last of the bourbon in his glass and then waved to a passing waitress for a refill before shifting his cell phone to his other ear.
“Look, sister darling, I already told you. It doesn’t matter if he and Casey never get it on. The terms of the will have been met. She got married. She’s living under his roof—under his protection. If it lasts a year, she’s done her part.”
Erica pouted. “It isn’t fair.”
Miles lifted his glass in a silent toast to a woman across the room before answering. “Who ever said life was fair?”
Erica kicked off her slippers and stretched out on her bed, absently admiring the color of polish on her fingers and toes. Practicing a pout she hadn’t used in years, Erica’s voice rose an octave.
“I can certainly vouch for the fact that life around here is deadly dull. When are you coming home?”
The woman in the bar lifted her own glass in a long-distance toast to Miles and smiled. His pulse reacted by skipping an anticipatory beat.
“Soon. Maybe tomorrow. The day after for sure.”
Erica frowned. “Well, all I can say is you’d better hurry. Grandmother is beginning to waffle. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was quite smitten with Casey’s honky-tonk man.”
That wasn’t something Miles wanted to hear. “You’re kidding!”
“No, I’m not. She missed a lunch date with me and has been closemouthed about the reason why. All I know is, she scolded me for a comment I made about the chauffeur and then took herself off to her room.”
The woman across the room was smiling openly now. Miles knew an invitation when it was being sent, and listening to his sister whine about an old woman’s bad attitude was ruining the moment.
“Look, Sis, I’ve got to go. When I know my flight, I’ll call. Someone will have to pick me up at the airport.”
He disconnected in Erica’s ear. She tossed her phone aside and picked up the television remote, but there was nothing on the tube that was as interesting as the man who was wandering through their woods. Curiosity won out over caution as she rolled out of bed in search of her shoes. She wouldn’t go far. Certainly no farther than the back lawn. Definitely not into the trees. But she was going. She couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.
* * *
Ryder walked until the darkness lifted from his spirit. When he came to himself enough to stop, he realized he could no longer see the house. In fact, he wasn’t even sure which way it was and right now he didn’t much care. Out here there were no walls to hold him back. He could run as far and as fast as his legs would take him, just as he’d been doing before he’d walked into that bar down in the flatlands. Casey had changed everything. And helm let her.
Now his running days were over. Maybe he had no purpose on which to focus, but she certainly did. He’d never seen a woman so driven, so determined to succeed at all costs. He’d given her his word—and the Justice men did not go back on their word.
In the distance, a hound bayed and another answered. He recognized the sounds. They had keyed on a prey. At that moment, in the dark, alone in the woods, he could almost empathize w
ith whatever creature was on the run. He knew what it felt like to be lost with nowhere to go. To run and run and then wind up at a dead end and facing destruction. That’s where he’d been going when Casey Ruban walked into his life. In a way, he’d come to look upon her as his anchor, because without her, he had nowhere to go.
He turned back the way he’d come. A short while later he emerged from the woods to find himself within yards of the place at which he’d entered. Instinct and the need to get back to her had led him home.
He started across the lawn when a shadow moved between him and the bush to his right. Instinctively he doubled his fists, preparing to do battle when Erica stepped into the light.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I frighten you?”
He combed a shaky hand through his hair as adrenaline began to subside.
“No.”
She giggled nervously and took a step closer, then another, then another, until she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Her eyes widened as a single bead of sweat pooled at the base of his neck, then spilled over onto the broad surface of his chest. When the sweat split the middle of Ryder’s belly, she moved another step closer, tilting her chin until their gazes met The invitation was in her eyes… in her voice… in the thrust of her breasts beneath pale yellow silk.
“Ummm, I didn’t know little sister liked them this roughcut. Poor Lash. He never stood a chance against a stud like you.”
Like a moth drawn to a flame, she reached out, her intentions painfully clear, and found her arm suddenly locked in a painful grip.
Their gazes met. His dark and wary, warning her away; hers wild and frightened by what she perceived as an imminent threat.
“Let me go!” she gasped.
“Then back off,” Ryder said, his voice just above a whisper.
She gasped, stung by the outrage of such an obvious refusal of her company, and yanked herself free.
“How dare you?” she said.
“No, sister dear, how dare you?”
Heat suffused her face. “I don’t know what you mean,” she cried.
His voice lowered, his words wrapping around her conscience, burning deeper and deeper with each angry syllable.
“Like hell. Don’t tell me you only came out here to see if your sister’s new husband would play hide-and-seek.”
A sense of shame she didn’t expect kept her momentarily silent. He was right, and she hated him for that and so much more. Unfortunately, Erica had never learned the wisdom of silence.
“I came out here because I thought I saw a prowler.”
Ryder raked her with a gaze that left her feeling as if she’d been stripped and branded. If she hadn’t been so afraid to turn her back on him, she would have dashed into the house.
“The only thing on the prowl out here is you,” he said, and then walked away.
Her fear subsided as the distance between them grew, but it was obvious to Erica that Ryder wasn’t afraid of the dark—or of anything else on this earth.
Erica clenched her fists and thought about screaming—actually thought about tearing her own nightgown, scratching her own face and arms and crying rape just to get the son of a bitch in trouble. But she was too vain to deal with marring her skin and too angry to fake being scared.
“Damn you,” she muttered, and spun on one heel before stalking back into the house. “Damn you and that stupid wife of yours all to hell!”
She slammed the door shut behind her, her breasts heaving, her face flushed with a rage she hadn’t felt in years, and suddenly found herself standing in a wash of white light.
She shrieked. “Tilly! My God! You scared me to death! What do you mean by sneaking around down here in the middle of the night?”
Tilly loomed over her like a dark, avenging angel. “Well, now, Miss Erica, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
At a loss for words, Erica pushed past her. She didn’t have to explain herself to the help. She was halfway down the hallway when Tilly spoke, and her voice carried all too clearly in the quiet of the house.
“I saw what you did.”
Erica stumbled, then picked up the tail of her gown, and started running toward the stairs. When she reached the safety of her room, she turned the lock and then threw herself on the bed and burst into tears. Somehow, she was going to have to find a way to make this right. It wouldn’t do to make her baby sister angry. Not now. Not when she controlled the purse strings and everything else that mattered in Erica’s world.
* * *
Ryder shut the door behind him, then stood in the darkness, listening. Casey was asleep. Even though the bedroom door was closed, he imagined he could hear the soft, even sounds of her breathing. The air-conditioning unit kicked on and the hum quickly drowned out all but the angry thunder of his own heart.
He looked down at himself, at the sweat running down his body, at the grass stains on the legs of his jeans, and took off his boots. He dropped his jeans by the bedroom door and kept on walking. Careful not to wake Casey, he closed the door to the bathroom before turning on the light.
Completely nude, he stepped beneath the showerhead before turning on the water, uncaring that the first surge came out fast and cold. He reached for the soap and began to scrub himself clean. This time when he was through, he knew he’d be able to sleep. His mind was as weary as his body.
He wrapped another towel around his waist before turning off the light, then opened the door, standing for a moment and letting his eyes adjust to the shadows. When he could see without stumbling, he started across the room.
Later, he would tell himself if he hadn’t looked down…if he hadn’t seen all that long dark hair strewn across her pillow and thought about what it would feel like to sleep wrapped up in its length, he might have made it out of the room.
But, he had looked, and the thought had crossed his mind, and now he stood without moving at the foot of her bed, studying the face of the woman to whom he’d given his name.
She slept on her back with one arm flung over her head and the other resting on her belly. His first impression of her hadn’t changed. She was truly a beautiful woman. But he’d learned since that first meeting in Sonny’s Bar that the essence of Casey Ruban Justice did not lie in the strength of her features, but in the strength of the woman who wore them.
There in the quiet intimacy of a bedroom they had yet to share, Ryder realized he might not know the woman who was his wife, but he respected the hell out of what she stood for, and for tonight, that was enough on which to sleep.
He walked out, taking great care not to let the door bang shut behind him. The sleeping bag was right where he’d left it. He dropped his towel and crawled into it as bare as the day he’d been born, then closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to overtake his weary mind.
In the room next door and in the bathroom beyond, water dripped from the showerhead at a slow, methodic rate. And they slept, and finally, morning came back to start a new day.
* * *
Erica was playing it cool. In her mind, the incident with Casey’s husband had never happened. She strode down the hall with purpose, heading for the kitchen, fully aware that was where Ryder would be eating his meal.
“There you are,” she said, as if he’d been in hiding. “Miles called. You need to go to the airport and pick him up.”
Tilly set a stack of dishes in the sink and wiped her hands on her apron as Ryder stood up from the table. “Oh, set yourself down and finish your food,” she told him. “That boy won’t be here any earlier than noon. He doesn’t like to get up in the morning, so I dare say he won’t be on any of the morning flights.”
Erica refused to rise to Tilly’s bait. “Here’s his flight number and the time of his arrival. Don’t be late. Miles doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Ryder slipped the note in his pocket without comment.
Erica pivoted, her duty done, and got all the way to the hallway before she got the guts to turn and ask, “Has anyone seen Casey t
his morning? I needed to talk to her about something.”
“Board of directors meeting this morning. Been gone since seven,” Ryder replied.
“Pooh,” Erica said. “Business, always business.”
“And that business keeps you off the streets, missy,” Tilly told her sharply, banging a lid on a pan for good measure.
“And you in the kitchen where you belong,” Erica retorted, and walked out, wishing she’d made a more ladylike exit by keeping her mouth shut. It seemed so common to argue with the help. Next time she wouldn’t give the old biddy the satisfaction of a response.
“That woman makes my teeth ache,” Tilly muttered.
Ryder kept silent, but he knew what she meant. A woman who would willingly seduce her sister’s man wasn’t the kind of woman who could be ever be trusted. He took a long sip of coffee. Even if the sister wasn’t sleeping with the man herself, it was still crossing a line no family member should ever cross.
Tilly topped off Ryder’s coffee, then did something she’d promised herself years ago never to do. She meddled in family business.
“You watch out for that woman,” Tilly warned.
Ryder glanced up, more than a little surprised.
“I know more than you think I know,” she said softly. “I saw what she tried to do the other night.”
Ryder’s eyes narrowed as he braced himself for a retribution that never came.
“And I heard what you said.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and busied himself with adding sugar to coffee he didn’t want.
Tilly put her hand on Ryder’s shoulder and kept it there until he looked up.
“I have my notions about things,” she told him.
“I’ll just bet that you do.”
Tilly refused to be swayed by the engaging grin he gave her.
“First time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were a good man. After what I saw the other night, I know you’re going to be good for my Casey, too.”
