Having that animal slip through his fingers again built a familiar rage. Knowing this emotion all too well, he rose from the couch and stood in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched. As he slowly bent to touch his fingers to the floor, the burning in his gut began to recede. He held the posture for another few moments and moved on to the warrior.
Long ago, he’d learned to control his anger with yoga. Of all the stress–reduction and anger–management techniques he’d tried, including medication, yoga worked the best. At times, he could not completely control the crazed anger that washed over him. During these times, he was glad he didn’t own the furniture and didn’t intend to regain his security deposit. He had kept all his real possessions in storage for the past three years.
His life had turned upside down then. He’d almost gone insane with pain and anger. Luckily, he regained his lucidity before destroying anything he valued. Once he placed his things in storage, he started his quest to track down the cause of his life’s upheaval, which led him to the city and to Detective Lydia Davis. He moved into the lotus position with a smile on his face. She was something else.
She struck a chord in him that, up until they met, he did not realize existed. Oh, there had been women — some short relationships and, of course, a few one-night stands. However, in the past three years, women had held no interest for him.
That all changed when he first saw Lydia. Something awoke. It yearned for her in a primal way. It was much more than sexual, although he wouldn’t mind spending several hot, sweaty nights with her.
Ryan rose from his position on the floor. The direction of his thoughts sapped the anger out of him, but his heart rate was way up. To get any sleep, he would have to spend twenty minutes under a cold shower. He went to the window to close the drapes, but took a moment to gaze toward her apartment.
A small light shone in her bedroom, and although she had drawn the shade, he could see her faint silhouette as she moved around the room. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Then she stopped and started to undress, pulling off her shirt.
“Oh God,” he whispered out loud, gripping the drapery with both hands. The shade did nothing to hide the roundness of her breasts as she turned, bent, and then lifted her arms over her head to allow the fabric of a nightshirt to slip over her body. She moved to the right and turned off the light.
Only after the room across the street darkened did Ryan start to breathe again. He let out the air with a shudder and released his grip on the drapes. It took every bit of his self-control to push aside the idea of going over there and knocking on her door. How he longed to caress that body. He shook his head, wanting to knock the image from his mind’s eye. Finally, he turned in a daze and stalked to the bathroom and that cold shower.
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Redeeming the Night Page 19
