Yours Tonight

by Joya Ryan

  Yours Tonight

  A Reign Novel

  By: Joya Ryan

  This is an original publication of Bear and Gunner Publishing, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Bear and Gunner Publishing, LLC or the author, does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2014 by Joya Ryan

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contact Joya@JoyaRyan.com for permission.

  www.JoyaRyan.com

  To Marina.

  Your strength inspires me.

  Your kindness and love have made me a better person.

  You’ve redefined the meaning of family and have become a part of my world. I wouldn’t spin right without you.

  Chapter One

  “Maybe if we left and I got these pants off you, I’d be more convinced.”

  Okay, that had to be one of the better—worst—lines I’d heard tonight. And, like all the other lines, it wasn’t directed at me.

  “I think I’ll have to show you my tattoo after all then,” the woman responded. The way she spoke was so confident. Like she was in control of herself and her sexuality, and the man coming on to her was eating it up.

  The woman also looked happy.

  Not scared in the least.

  I took a deep breath, ignoring the flash of envy shooting through my veins, and looked around again.

  Waiting.

  Tattoo woman and her guy didn’t seem to care that they were all but invading my table in order to better climb all over each other. Mine was a small table wedged against the corner of a packed bar…a table for two.

  And yet, I sat alone.

  I had been there for almost an hour, and was now convinced my “blind date” wasn’t coming. Pulling out my phone, I called my best friend Harper; she was the one who had the great idea to set me up in the first place.

  “Hey, Lana,” she answered.

  “Hey, so Rick never showed up.”

  “What? He didn’t? I’m sorry. He was an idiot.”

  “Then why did you set me up with him?”

  “Because you need to get out more. Date. Be social. It’s summer, you should be enjoying your freedom.”

  Ah, yes, freedom. Too bad all I could think about was the fall and starting grad school in my sleepy town of Golden, a safe twenty miles outside of Denver. Harper was on this kick that I needed to “live life,” to which I politely pointed out that going for my masters in statistics was a plenty thrilling endeavor.

  Tattoo girl bumped my table with her butt again, only this time it was because she and Mr. Smooth Talker were getting even closer.

  “I think I’ve reached my fun quota for tonight,” I said, wishing I had driven myself into the city, instead of having Harper drop me off tonight. “Can you come get me now?”

  “Yeah, I’m at the office. I just need to finish up a few things. I can be there in an hour.”

  I laughed a little. “And you tell me to have fun? You’re the one still working on a Friday night.”

  “What was that?” she teased. “You don’t need a ride home?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll wait. Thank you.”

  I glanced around. An hour. Not my ideal scene, but, surely, I’d survive.

  I hung up and scrolled through my text messages. My heart skipped when I saw my dad had finally texted me back about my suggestion for lunch tomorrow. But that skip didn’t last long, since it was a polite way to say:

  Sorry, Pumpkin, can’t tomorrow. Next week?

  At least he used a colon and parenthesis after the rejection to soften the blow. Text jargon or not, it was a smile from my father, so I’d take it.

  Running a few fingers through my brunette curls, I tried to smooth away a little of the anxiety creeping up. One hour. Two words that were growing a little daunting. I pulled out my phone one more time and texted my dad back.

  I know it’s a little late, but can I come over and hang out for an hour until Harper can pick me up? I’m kind of stranded in the city.

  And send. My dad only lived a mile away. Twenty minute walk, max. Though his wife wasn’t my biggest fan, it was better than sitting alone in a busy bar. Maybe not better, but the lesser of two evils. My phone dinged and excitement raced. That was quick!

  I smiled and read:

  Sorry, Pumpkin, busy night tonight.

  My smile faded, and I put my phone on the table and sat back in my seat. Looking down at my simple summer dress, I felt the same thing I’d felt a thousand times growing up, while I waited around for my dad to swoop in and save the day:

  Invisible.

  When the couple bumped me again, apparently I wasn’t the only one they annoyed. A guy standing next to them started yelling. Before I comprehended what was going on, a fist was thrown, and the two men were in a fight. One of them knocked against my table so hard it spilled my water all over me, and I gasped in fear and put my arms over my face like an “X.”

  My nerves went into overdrive from the shock of what had just happened. Mentally chanting to myself to calm down, I slowly lowered my arms and saw a large man in a white T-shirt throwing himself between the two fighting men and, along with the bouncer, kicking them toward the exit.

  They’re gone, I told myself, trying to get a handle on my breathing. The water had hit me straight on, and covered my stomach and lap. I did my best to blot the wetness with my napkin, shaking my head. I shouldn’t have even come tonight. I should have stayed home, like usual.

  Two more months and I’d start grad school in Golden and not have to come back to the city for any reason, other than my part time job working at my dad’s financial service company. A job I was doing so well at that I had been bumped up to thirty hours a week, now that summer was here. If I kept up this pace, logged my hours at his company, and succeeded at grad school, he’d hire me on as an account lead. Finally, he’d give me the chance to build toward the dream he’d hammered into me since I was a kid. Family business. Sure, it was a small, struggling business he’d started back when I was a kid, but when he married Anita, she and her money put my dad in the black. I may be the dirty, poor step-child, but I was still his, and whether Anita liked it or not, I was determined to be a person he’d be proud of.

  People were already over the fight and back to enjoying themselves. At least their eyes weren’t on me anymore, but I was soaked and now getting cold.

  “Excuse me?” A deep, raspy voice said. I looked up to find a tall, chiseled man with the darkest eyes I’d ever seen, staring down at me. “Are you alright?”

  “I, ah…” I looked down at the front of my damp dress and blotted again. It was no use. The thin fabric was clinging to my thighs, making me very uncomfortable.

  “Here,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and placing it on my shoulders. It smelled of spice and leather. I tried to work a breath out, but it was no use. Between the sudden heat of his jacket enveloping me and the sight of his obviously broad chest and hard torso, I found it difficult to make my mouth move.

  I didn’t know if it was the rush of the fight I’d witnessed followed by the cold water, but whatever it was, my body was confused and prickling with heat while flushing with goose bumps.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his onyx gaze roaming over my entire body.

  When he began to roll up the sleeves of his wh
ite button-up shirt, I watched transfixed. His forearms flexed a little as he moved to the other cuff. The way his long fingers worked the material, exposing tan skin as he went, made me wonder how the simple act of rolling up his sleeves could be sexy.

  Trailing my gaze up, I took in every edge of his face. With a five o’clock shadow that matched his black hair, he looked exotic. Powerful. What must it be like to be a man like him? A person with so much confidence it radiated in every tiny movement. What would someone have to do to obtain that kind of essence?

  Without knowing the answer to that, I’d likely sign up. Because whatever Kool-Aid this guy drank, I wanted some. Bad.

  Harper told me once that prey could recognize predators and, while most run, some go into shock from the predator’s power. I think she had been on her third shot of tequila and was only half listening to The Animal planet episode that was on, but it made some sense.

  True or not. I felt like prey, transfixed by a predator. And I didn’t have the good sense to flee just yet.

  “You don’t have to lend me your jacket,” I said, kind of wishing I hadn’t. But manners were manners. “I’ll be fine.” I caught a heavy whiff of his scent again, and it instantly swarmed my senses, warming me from the inside out.

  “Please, I insist.” His words were kind, but there was a definitive tone that made me not want to challenge him. The man had to be a couple inches over six foot, and the large jacket covered me well, reinstating a bit of security.

  “Are you sure you didn’t get hit or injured?” He tilted his head and examined me. The low light of the bar made shadows dance across his face, like some mythical underworld god.

  I smiled a little because while he might look fierce, his concern was sweet. Actually, he was the only one who’d asked. Everyone else just stared. Then I realized why he must be asking. I hadn’t gasped, I had yipped like a spooked puppy.

  “I was just surprised, but I’m really okay. Wasn’t even touched. Well,” I glanced down the front of me again, “aside from a little water.”

  He did that body scanning thing with his eyes again, leaving a trail of hot shivers along my skin.

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  I went to thank him one more time, but something near the entrance caught my attention. My eyes went to the door and I froze...it couldn’t be. Oh, God, it was…him.

  He was here. Walking into the same bar I was currently sitting in. My throat closed up and the sudden urge to bolt, to vomit, to scream, overwhelmed me. An unfortunate reaction, but one I’d had many times whenever I encountered my step-brother. I’d seen him thousands of times over the years, and yet, it never got easier. I just learned how to remain silent and pretend I wasn’t terrified.

  That I was okay.

  “Brock.” I whispered.

  What the hell was he doing in Denver? He worked for my father too, and was supposed to be overseeing the New York branch. Which meant he hadn’t been around in six months. Six months of blessed peace that allowed me to actually work at my father’s company.

  He took another step into the bar. I watched his beady eyes scan the room as he adjusted his tie. He was only six years older than me, but his dull brown hair had flecks of gray, and his chest puffed out a little extra to make up for the fact that he was five-nine on a good day. Since he was still in his suit, he’d likely come from the office, but which one?

  Everything else in the world blurred, because all I could think about was getting away. Gripping the table with one hand, I tensed to move, to leave, but he was right at the entrance, and there was no way I could get out without him seeing me. Granted, the way he kept looking around, he’d likely notice me any moment.

  My blood pumped faster and a kick of anxiety laced with a heavy dose of fear surged until all I could hear was my pulse beating. I couldn’t escape.

  I looked around, wishing I had a wall, something to hide behind. But I didn’t. Just like I didn’t that night ten years ago when he came into my bedroom.

  When Brock shifted his stance in my direction, my nerves short-circuited. He was going to see me. Huddling the best I could, I tried to make myself smaller. I wished I could disappear. I wished for the thousandth time that I could just be someone else. Somebody braver.

  Somebody who mattered.

  But, once again, I was alone. Like a laser beam, his gaze was drawn closer…closer…

  “Hey, hey,” the man who gave me his coat whispered. He’d obviously read my body language, and the fact that I was bouncing in my seat, yet not making a move to stand. “It’s okay, those guys are gone,” he said, referring to the men who had been fighting.

  It was a reasonable assumption on his part that I was having some kind of post traumatic freak out moment. Which was half true, just the wrong moment.

  He sat right next to me and turned his body so that I faced him head on, and his back was toward the crowd and the bar.

  A wall.

  “I…” I couldn’t get words out. Because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want him to go. Between his broad shoulders and strong chest, he effectively kept me hidden from Brock.

  He just sat there, one arm on the table, the other gripping the back of my seat, boxing me in and shielding me with his entire body.

  “Y-yes, I’m fine.” It was what I always said. What I had rehearsed over and over as a girl. Even at thirteen, I knew that if I didn’t pretend that I wasn’t broken, I would really break and I’d have no one to help put me back together.

  I looked into the stranger’s eyes. They were like smoldering obsidian. He was so intense and in control. I should have felt threatened, but I didn’t. There was an intensity, sure, but also a gentle understanding and heat that warmed me instantly…made me feel safe. And, suddenly, I didn't want to lie…not to him.

  “No, actually, I'm not fine. I saw someone I don’t want to see.”

  “Man from your past, I take it?”

  “Something like that,” I said, not wanting to go into detail. “How did you know?”

  “You went pale. Before, you were almost on the brink of a smile, then your whole body tensed. Something obviously terrified you.”

  My heart sank when I realized that my fear was obvious to a total stranger. Embarrassing even. A true sign of weakness. One thing I hated being, but worried I would never overcome.

  I glanced at my hands in my lap.

  “Hey,” he whispered and tapped his finger under my chin, making my gaze meet his. “No one can see you.” He flexed his shoulders just enough to reassure me that he did, in fact, provide the perfect barrier.

  Every syllable that left his mouth was coated in power. The exact thing I lacked. From the way he sat, to how he moved, it was obvious this man was all things alpha and in control. And prey or not, I was caught. And I liked it.

  I peeked around his shoulder. I didn’t see Brock, but the bar was dark and with the low lights and mass amounts of people, he could be lurking anywhere.

  Or maybe he’d left.

  I could only hope that was the case, because I still had an hour to kill.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lana,” I said, finding it difficult to breathe with him so close. But for a totally different reason than fear.

  “Thank you for—” I motioned at his chest, “being my wall.”

  He smiled back and—wow! Talk about an earth-shattering sight. All those straight white teeth and the small crinkle by his eyes made his face light up.

  “I’m happy to be your wall.” He leaned in a little. “Anytime.”

  My legs instantly ached and my chest pounded with such a hot need it sent tingles along my breasts and straight to my nipples. Which was shocking. Mostly because I had never “needed” much before.

  Not in this way.

  My body was very aware of him. Right down to every last goose bump he brought to my skin.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Jack.”

  I repeated his name and he glanced at my
mouth. Suddenly, it was hard to swallow. He was still, and a calming, controlled essence rolled off of him.

  He glanced behind his shoulder real quick. “Would you like me to stay seated like this?”

  “No, it’s fine.” I was about to tell him that I didn’t see Brock anymore, but that would start a conversation that I wasn’t interested in having—ever.

  He adjusted slightly, but kept his full attention pointed in my direction. Such a thing was new, and I couldn’t help but fidget a little, swaying my shoulders, threading and unthreading my fingers.

  “Am I bothering you?” he asked, glancing at my hands.

  “No,” I shot out quickly, because he wasn’t. His stare on me was like an acute laser beam, but for some reason, I didn’t want it to go away. I wanted to be seen, by him at least. “I just don’t usually meet guys in bars. Much less…”

  Much less what? The more I babbled, the more I realized I had no clue what I was doing. Dating was a bad idea for me, despite what Harper thought.

  “Lana?”

  My gaze snapped back to Jack.

  He tilted his head, examining my face with a softness in his. “Care to continue your thought?”

  “Not really.”

  He laughed. Jack didn’t look like the kind of man who laughed much. Not because he was scary, but an intense, professional, controlled aura definitely surrounded him. That fact that I just made him snicker a little, felt good. Like I’d accomplished something.

  “Well, now you have me very intrigued.”

  I shrugged and tried the best I could to explain away my obvious awkwardness. “I’m not very smooth with this—” I motioned between us— “type of interaction.”

  He raised a brow. “Oh? And what kind of interaction are we having?”

  I swallowed hard. “The kind that makes me nervous.”

  He leaned away. “I see. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

  “It’s a different kind of nervous than a regular nervous,” I said quickly, not liking that he was backing away.

  His dark brows sliced down. “You’re losing me on your logic.”