Roughing It With Ryan Page 8

  8

  ONCE AGAIN Ryan stood in his shower, trying to relieve some tension. This time it was sexual tension.

  It had been over a week since he’d first set eyes on Suzanne. He had no idea how long a guy could walk around with an erection without having his parts fall off, but he was thinking it couldn’t be too much longer.

  Damn, his brothers had bad timing, getting the electricity back on just as he’d gotten his hands inside Suzanne’s panties, and a glorious breast in his mouth.

  Just one more minute, one more, and he’d have been buried deep in her sweet, hot body.

  Instead, the lights had blared on, jarring them both. Suzanne had jerked, staring at him wide-and wild-eyed.

  Wanting to soothe, wanting to get back to that mindless pleasure they’d shared, Ryan had leaned in, only to have her slap a hand to his chest and shake her head.

  Dress bunched around her waist and tugged off her shoulders, she’d dragged in a shuddering breath. Her nipples had been tight, and wet from his mouth. Her panties, stretched over her mound and bared to him by her opened legs, had been wet, too, and just thinking about it made him hard all over again.

  “Ryan?” Angel pounded on his bathroom door.

  In typical brotherly fashion, he cranked the hot water back up and ignored her.

  “I’ve got dinner cooking for you, okay?”

  Ah, hell. He turned off the water.

  “And don’t forget, that woman Rafe set you up with? The…‘hot chick’ I think he said? Anyway, she called just now to say she’d pick you up. Gotta run now, late for class. Bye!”

  “What? Wait!” Wrapping a towel around his hips he opened the bathroom door just in time to hear the front door slam. “Angel?”

  Of course she didn’t come back, it was her mission in life to screw with his.

  But…what woman? Vaguely he remembered Rafe telling him he’d met someone who’d be “perfect” for him, but having heard that too many times to count, he’d just nodded and ignored him.

  It was his job as big brother to ignore his siblings when they talked too much.

  But now he had a bad feeling he’d ignored something important. If he had some hot date, he’d like to know about it.

  But good, bad or “perfect,” no woman came to his door that night.

  LATE THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Suzanne sat on the front steps of Taylor’s building, watching life go by, pretending not to stare at Ryan, once again shirtless and hard at work.

  He was nearly finished with the trees.

  Soon he’d go off to the next job, wherever that might be, and she was fine with that. More than fine.

  So why, then, did her heart squeeze just watching him work?

  Simple, pure, unadulterated physical reaction to a gorgeous man, she decided, a man intense and sweaty and hard at work. There was nothing sexier than that.

  But she was becoming deathly afraid that much of it had nothing to do with sex, or even lust.

  With a sigh, she straightened the newspaper in her hands with a little shake and buried her nose in the want ads. A catering job here and there wasn’t good enough. She needed her regimentation.

  Just ask her mother.

  With another sigh, she circled a chef position at a restaurant only a few blocks over, then looked up as a shadow fell over her.

  “Hey,” said the voice that never failed to make her stomach flip-flop. Ryan’s long, hard body stood right in front of her, so that her head was perfectly level with the juncture at the top of his thighs, and the most fascinating spot between them—

  “Whatcha doing?”

  She jerked her gaze back to the paper. “Reading.”

  “The want ads?”

  “Funny thing, how attracted I am to having a positive balance in my bank account.”

  A finger hooked into the paper, pulled it down, exposing a curious, interested, gorgeously rumpled Ryan. What was it about a sweaty man?

  “What about the catering gig?” he asked.

  She was careful to keep her gaze averted. “It’s just a hobby.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “No, really it’s just a hobby. Sure I’ve had more contacts and jobs lately, but I’m not into my own business.” A tad too much regimentation there. “It’s a good hobby.” She circled another chef ad. The only other one in the paper.

  “Just don’t give up,” he said with a fierceness that surprised her into looking up past his long, long legs and what lay between, all the way up to his deeply passionate expression.

  “I won’t,” she said with some surprise. Funny how the thought of not doing her catering didn’t sit well. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Good.” He pulled on his shirt. Uncapping a water bottle, he sat at her side, leaned back on one elbow and tipped back his head to drink.

  His Adam’s apple, such an utterly male thing, bobbed with each swallow. His light blue T-shirt clung to his damp, overworked body. His powerful denim-clad legs were stretched out in front of him, his booted feet crossed in utter relaxation.

  A long sigh escaped him as he finished off the water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s good.”

  What was good was how he looked. She wanted to lick the last drop off his bottom lip. Down, girl. “You’re done for the day?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nearly done period. Just a couple of hours tomorrow and that’s it.”

  Yeah, that’s about what she figured. “What about the trees in the back?”

  “Why?” He turned his head to face her. “You going to miss me?”

  Only every living second. “Of course not.”

  “Right.” He turned forward again, his face unreadable. “And we trimmed those already.”

  “Oh. You’re…um, good at what you do.”

  He looked at her from beneath half-closed, sleepy, sexy eyes, and she realized how her words had sounded. “I meant, the trees,” she said quickly. “You’re good at the trees.”

  His expression was silent and searching, his big body so close the yearning nearly overtook her.

  “I’ve been doing it for a long time,” he finally said. “That’s all.”

  There was a weariness in his voice now that made her hesitate.

  Don’t ask.

  Don’t dig.

  It doesn’t concern you. He doesn’t concern you. “Is something the matter?”

  He looked surprised at the question, and that tugged at her, too. He was surrounded by people, she knew that now. People who depended on him. His brothers. His sister. His laborers.

  But who did he depend on?

  “I’m just tired of trees,” he admitted, letting out that melting crooked smile while he stretched his long body and groaned. “My body is tired of trees. I’ll be glad when…”

  Though she waited, he didn’t finish. He just closed his mouth, put his sunglasses back over his eyes and tilted up his face to the sinking sun.

  “Ryan? You’ll be glad when…what?”

  A honk from the street startled them both. At the curb sat a bright red Miata. A woman got out, a brunette with legs from here to New York.

  Ryan knew this because she wore a leather mini-skirt that showed them off, topped by heels that screamed do me! Her top was leather too, but didn’t quite meet the skirt, exhibiting a sparkling stud in her quite exposed belly button.

  But what confused Ryan was the way she beelined right toward him, her very red lips in a welcoming smile that he didn’t understand.

  Him? She was smiling at him?

  He craned his neck and checked behind him to make sure, but the only people on the steps were himself and Suzanne.

  “Ryan?” Long Legs held out her slim hand, which he automatically took. “I’m Allene.” She smiled expectantly, as if waiting for him to slap his forehead and say, “Of course. Allene.”

  Allene. Allene. Who the hell was Allene and why was she looking at him like that, as if she’d like to gobble him up in one bite? He looked at Suzanne, who was still looking
at Allene.

  He came to his feet as the woman said, “I know we arranged for me to pick you up at home, but I heard you were working down here, and I drive right by every day, so I thought…” She trailed off and smiled again.

  Suddenly Angel’s message the other night made sense. Everything clicked into place.

  His brother.

  This was the “hot chick” Rafe had set him up with, without permission, and while she was definitely hot and definitely a chick, he didn’t want… Ah, hell.

  Suzanne was staring at him.

  Allene was staring at him.

  And Ryan was going to kill his meddling younger brother. Russ wouldn’t mind being without his twin—Rafe was a pain in all their asses. He’d be doing the family a favor. “I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake. My brother…”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, just go with her.” This from Suzanne, who stood up and dusted off her hands. “Have fun.”

  “Suz—”

  “’Night!” And she was gone, the door to the building shut in his face. Shut very politely, mind you, but shut good and tight.

  “Do you mind that I came here?” Finally sensing his confusion, Allene matched it with a little pout of her full, red lips. “I just thought that since I had tickets to that play, we could save time, and—”

  “No.” Ryan managed a smile. “It’s fine, it’s just that…” He looked into her melting brown eyes. “I’m really tired, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at a set of tickets in her hand, and Ryan felt like a jerk. “I…understand.”

  Ah, hell. “But…”

  Allene brightened. “But?” she said with such hope Ryan knew he had to do this.

  “But I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “Great! We’ll stop by your house so you can shower and change first.” She took his hand and tugged him toward her car.

  Ryan watched Taylor’s building fade away and wondered what Suzanne was thinking. Probably not fond thoughts.

  Then he wondered exactly how he should kill his brother. Slowly, he thought. Slowly and painfully.

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER Allene dropped Ryan back off at Taylor’s building for his truck. Turning off her car, she turned and sent him yet another dazzling smile.

  After an evening of those mega-wattage smiles—which Ryan now knew covered up an innate inability to have a conversation that didn’t apply to her makeup, her hair or her clothes—Ryan felt a little mega-wattaged out.

  He hadn’t been able to ditch her. When he’d tried, she blinked wet eyes at him, saying Rafe had promised he’d take her for dessert after, and he’d folded like a cheap suitcase.

  Damn it. Now all he wanted was a couple of aspirin and a glimpse of another woman.

  Suzanne.

  He didn’t consider it a good sign that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head the entire evening. It wasn’t as if she’d wanted to go out with him. Hell, she hardly wanted to talk to him.

  But somehow he knew that to be a ruse. That what was happening between them simply terrified her.

  He understood that. He felt it himself. But it had to be faced.

  Tonight. With that in mind, he turned to Allene with an apologetic smile. “It’s late,” he said, leaning back a bit when she unhooked her seatbelt and moved in on him. “Allene, wait—”

  Nope, she didn’t wait, she straddled him, right there in the Miata, which had to be a nearly impossible feat given the gear shift. “Allene—”

  “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you there on those steps, all stretched out, hot and sweaty and sexy as hell.” Fisting her hands in his hair, she kissed him.

  He had a beautiful woman sitting on his lap, trying to shove her tongue down his throat, and he was actually going to fight her off.

  What was wrong with this picture?

  As gently as he could, he pushed Allene back to the driver’s side of the Miata. She fell there, mouth wet, eyes hot, her body sprawled out and hopeful.

  She sighed. “It’s another woman, right?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “It’s okay. I knew it.”

  If she’d known it, he was worse off than he’d thought. Figuring she’d let him off easy, and also feeling a little guilty about it, Ryan practically scrambled out of the Miata. Ran up the steps.

  And came face-to-face with Suzanne, who stood there, leaning against the door, arms crossed, face utterly unreadable.

  “Hey,” he said, skidding to a stop, a little breathless.

  Reaching out, she swiped a finger over the corner of his mouth. She lifted it to show him the bright red lipstick Allene had left there.

  Then she turned and went into the building.

  And this time, the door slammed. Hard.

  9

  AFTER SLAMMING THE DOOR—why had she done that, she didn’t care who Ryan went out with—Suzanne stalked through the dark hallway, up the stairs and straight into Taylor’s apartment.

  “Taylor?” She let herself in. “I need an ice cream fix!”

  “Well, then, come on back! I have a brand new gallon and two clean spoons.”

  Suzanne stormed into the kitchen, headed for Taylor’s freezer and grabbed the gallon container. Since Taylor had sold her antique dining room set to start work on the loft, there was nowhere to sit, so they each hopped up on the counter.

  Doing her best not to remember what had happened the last time she’d sat on a counter, Suzanne took the spoon Taylor handed her and dug in.

  Taylor waited until they’d each had five good-sized bites. “So.” Swinging her feet, she sucked a drop of ice cream off her spoon. “What did he do?”

  “He who?”

  “He who. Ryan who.”

  Suzanne studied a swirl of chocolate. “What makes you think he did anything?”

  “Because he’s got a penis, hon. He can’t help but be an idiot.”

  “Yeah.” Suzanne sighed. “But for some reason, I always forget that idiot part.”

  “Well, I have to admit, Ryan does seem to have evolved slightly further than the average knuckle-dragger. I mean he looks at you, really looks at you. If you gave him any encouragement at all, I think he’d go for it.”

  Suzanne snorted and shoveled in more ice cream.

  Taylor lifted a brow. “Are you saying he’s already gone for it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh,” Taylor said with disappointment.

  “I went for it.” At Taylor’s shocked laugh, she sighed. “Remember when the electricity went out the other evening? We nearly…”

  Taylor put down her spoon. “Nearly what?”

  Suzanne dug back into the container with more force than was required. “Let’s just say the electricity came on just in time and my sanity returned.”

  “Wow. So you nearly…” Taylor sighed. “He’s got the best body.”

  “One he took out a date tonight with a woman who looks like a Barbie doll.”

  “Hmm.”

  “He kissed her.”

  “No.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Taylor put her spoon down. “Should we kill him?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” Taylor hopped off the counter, and looked deep into Suzanne’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken? I’ve seen him watch you. There is no one else, there couldn’t be.”

  “There was tonight.”

  “Talk to him.”

  Suzanne hopped down, too, but kept a hold of the tub of ice cream. She wasn’t letting go of her comfort food. “No way.”

  “I think you should.”

  “And I think we need to renew our vow to remain single, since you’ve apparently forgotten it. I’m borrowing this ice cream.” She went out the door.

  Taylor sighed. “I’ll renew my vow,” she said to the swinging door. “But I have the feeling you won’t be needing yours for long.”

  CONCENTRATING ON shoveling ice cream into her mouth at a rate
that would ensure obesity by her next birthday, Suzanne headed toward her own apartment.

  Her throat was tight, her eyes burned and it bugged the hell out of her. Good Lord, one would think she actually cared who that Neanderthal dated, when everyone knew he dated anything in a damn skirt.

  It didn’t matter, not one little bit, because she was never going to date again. She was never even going to look at another man again, no matter if he was Adonis.

  She’d have to get a vibrator, of course. Or turn lesbian.

  No, a vibrator would do.

  Reaching out blindly for the front door of her own apartment, she nearly swallowed both her tongue and the spoon on it when she encountered a hard chest instead.

  She knew that hard chest.

  “Suzanne.”

  Oh, God, she knew that voice too, mostly because it made her mouth go dry and her thighs clench together.

  Two large hands settled on her shoulders. One gentle shake had her raising her head to meet his dark, dark gaze. “We have to talk,” he said.

  She swallowed her latest bite of chocolate ice cream and thought about that. “No.”

  “There are things you need to know.”

  “N-period-O-period, no.”

  “The date was set up by Rafe.”

  “You poor, poor baby. I bet it was rough.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who said I should go.”

  Yes. Yes, she had.

  “Look, I’ve come to terms with this…” He waved a hand between them. “This thing between us, and you should, too.”

  “This thing? We have a thing?” She gaped, then laughed. “Don’t be silly, we don’t have a thing.”

  “We sure as hell do.” His forehead was furrowed as he opened her apartment door, one hand still on her arm as if he thought maybe she’d bolt. Or slam the door on him.

  She considered both.

  “All I’m saying…” He ushered her inside. “Is that we might as well see it through.”

  “Why? To get it out of our system? We tried that!” Exhaustion made her shoulders sag. “Go home, Ryan.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly. You date obsessively. You’re addicted to women!”