by T. M. Cromer
A short laugh was the reward for his teasing.
“Okay, in all honesty, I’m not sure,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t conjure food or dishes, so maybe you should try.”
Her attempt failed spectacularly. She cast him a worried glance. “Do you think this is an oversight on my brother’s part?”
“No. When have you ever known your brother not to think of everything or have a contingency plan?”
“Right. So what’s the trick?”
“I’m not sure. Knowing Alastair, it could be anything. He’s a sneaky bastard. I can say that now because I have no more clothing to lose.”
“Think he’ll steal your sheet?” Her eyes lit with laughter and maybe a little interest. The interest was most likely wishful thinking on Ryker’s end.
“If he does, try to contain yourself.”
“My hysteria or falling on you in a lustful attack?”
He grinned, able to find the humor in the situation, and perhaps because a flirty GiGi always made him smile. “I will not fight off a lustful attack. I may, however, be a little irked if you laugh hysterically at my predicament.”
With a prudent change of the subject and a slight smile still remaining, she asked, “When you tried to conjure your food, what did you think about? Or more precisely, did you only think about food for yourself?”
“Yes. You?”
“The same. Perhaps because he intends us to work together for the benefit of the other, I should try to conjure food for you, and you should try for me.”
“It’s worth a shot. What would you like to eat?”
“I’ll take a croissant and a small cup of berries, please.”
Sure enough, Ryker was able to produce her breakfast. “Your turn. I’d like an omelet and croissant, please.”
Within moments, his piping-hot food was sitting on a plate in front of him.
“Thank you! Is coffee too much to hope for?” Ryker asked as he reached for his French pastry. The plate flew across the counter and came to an abrupt stop in front of GiGi. “What the hell?”
GiGi’s wide-eyed gaze locked on the plate. She shoved the dish back toward him. His hand didn’t make it halfway to its objective before his food slid back to GiGi.
Ryker picked up his wife’s breakfast and walked to her side of the counter to place it there. Sure enough, as she reached for the croissant, it slid out of reach.
“Try to handle my food,” he instructed as he reached for hers. “Since I can touch yours, and you can touch mine, but we can’t touch our own, what does that tell you?”
“That my brother should die a slow, painful death.” Her eyes flared wide, and Ryker suspected she’d lost the last material barrier between her and bare-assed.
He chuckled. “The gods of mischief made off with your panties, did they?”
“I don’t suppose we will be able to eat unless we feed one another, will we?” she said with a resigned sigh.
“That appears to be the case.”
He ripped off a small piece of her croissant and held it to her mouth. The color flooding her face as she ate the food made him squirm inside. He hated her uncomfortableness. Hated that she was forced to endure his presence when she wanted anything but. Yet when her lips gently closed over his fingers, and her wary gaze met his, there was a deeper emotion hidden within the violet-blue depths.
She duplicated his gesture with his pastry, and Ryker resisted the urge to nip her fingers. On and on the feeding went, each bite more erotic than the last as fingers and lips lingered.
* * *
GiGi wasn’t blind to the spell being woven around her and Ryker. Each touch of his fingers against her lips brought to mind their relationship when things like this were almost a daily occurrence. Neither she nor Ryker had considered feeding the other a strawberry or a bite of toast out of the ordinary. Indeed, it had almost always ended up with the two of them making love.
GiGi also wasn’t blind to Ryker’s building arousal. It was hard to ignore when he was only covered by a sheet. She suspected he had picked up on her own signs of desire. The most telling of all would be the heat in her cheeks. Resisting those bedroom eyes of his—the ones that saw everything whether she wished them to or not—was next to impossible. A single look was able to singe her. Did she continue to fight the attraction? Why, when she wanted him too?
“One last time,” she murmured softly.
“What’s that?” He leaned closer to hear.
“You and me. Sex. One last time.” The words came out as jumbled as they were in her brain. She frowned when he did. “What’s wrong?”
“No, GiGi. I don’t think so.”
The sadness and resignation on his face disturbed her. “I don’t understand. You’ve been teasing about sex since you returned.”
“Not sex, sweetheart. Making love. And I don’t want one last time. I want forever.” Ryker dusted his hands of crumbs and left her sitting with her mouth hanging open.
The rejection stung, but she understood his reluctance. It was going to be hard enough to walk away as things already were, but if they complicated the ending with sex—she wouldn’t think of it as making love, couldn’t really—then their parting was likely to be more difficult still.
With slow precision, she rose and brought the dishes to the sink. As she washed their plates, she wondered how long they’d be forced to endure this exquisite torture. For that’s what it was. This game of Alastair’s was a constant reminder of times gone by. A time when she and Ryker were hot and crazy for each other. Being trapped here with him was slowly eating away at her determination. All she wanted to do was forgive the past and welcome him back with open arms. Yet, she’d be a fool to do so.
Despite what Ryker said, there was no doubt in GiGi’s mind that he would grow bored without danger and intrigue to entertain him. How was she supposed to trust him to put her first? It was all she had ever wanted: to be first. Instead, she had been ever the convenient spouse, available whenever he decided to return home. There were times when she went weeks without hearing from him, and she remained in a constant state of worry until the day he returned. He’d ease her fears, make mad, passionate love to her, then disappear again after a few days.
No, she couldn’t do that again. She wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a spy. Not for one moment did she believe Ryker could walk away from his career. His identity was wrapped up in what he did. Having lost so many people who mattered to her—most recently her brother Preston—GiGi couldn’t take any more death.
5
“Ready for lunch?”
GiGi lingered in the doorway, looking like a blonde goddess. She’d found another sheet and created a toga to wrap around her body, draping over one shoulder. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail with a slight bump at the crown to add a bit of elegance to the hairdo. Makeup flawless, she stole Ryker’s breath.
He simply nodded.
What he wanted to do was wail like a toddler with a broken cookie. How was he to get through another meal like their breakfast?
“Are you okay?”
He should’ve assured her he was, but he really wasn’t. What was the point in lying about it? “No.”
A deep frown settled between her brows, and she drifted farther into the room.
“What’s going on?”
“So many things, GiGi. So damned many things,” he said with feeling.
Settling one hip on the edge of his desk, she smoothed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead. “Tell me.”
Oh, how he wanted to, but she was half of his problems. Yet the earnestness she exuded begged him to take a chance and spill his guts.
“Beecham. I still can’t find a way to prove to the Council he was responsible for Trina’s murder. It’s been weeks since the truth came to light, and I’ve been unable to bring him to justice.”
“Why do it the legal way?”
“What are you saying?”
Surely she didn’t mean he should take the law into his ow
n hands?
“You should kill him.”
Okay, maybe she did. Words escaped him.
“Look, we all know he’s responsible. Alastair told us Preston revealed as much when he appeared to him at the pond. Why do we need proof?”
Inexplicable rage flooded his being. “Your family’s arrogance is what is always getting you all into trouble.” Standing, he shoved back his office chair. “You all charge into danger without a thought to who else it might harm. And it does. Each and every time.” He drew in a lungful of oxygen and held up his hand when she would’ve argued. “Don’t. You can’t justify your excuses. Look at the history, GiGi. Trina, Aurora, Chloe, Dereck, Rafe, Quentin. All injured or, like in my sister’s case, murdered. Now one of your own. Why the hell don’t any of you think before you act?”
He had rattled off the people closest to her family and had no doubt each name struck GiGi squarely in the chest.
Pale and trembling, she blinked back the tears brightening her eyes. “And you, Ryker? What has been your death toll with that damned job? All the people you mentioned? Yeah, it wasn’t any one of us seeking trouble. It was trouble seeking us. You’d know that if you were around more.”
“Don’t you dare lay this on my door. I’ve spent my career as a double agent for your own brother. All in an effort to protect you.”
“Me? Pfft. You were never here to protect me.”
“I wasn’t far.” As quickly as his anger came, it fled. He cupped her devastated face within his palms. “I was never far,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her hands encircled his waist, and she met him halfway. He imagined she’d expected a passionate kiss; however, it was anything but. When his mouth settled on hers, it was for the briefest of seconds. A simple showing of the affection he felt for her.
He drew back a hairsbreadth and whispered, “I will always protect you, GiGi. Always.”
While he was fervent in his declaration, he managed to keep the fires within banked. GiGi had made it clear that she’d welcome sex, but Ryker wanted more than an itch scratched. If he couldn’t be more than a stud service, then he wouldn’t give in to his desires, nor would he satisfy hers.
“I don’t need your protection, Ryker. I never did. I needed you to be a husband.”
What could he say to that? Nothing. He’d already asked for a second chance, and she’d rejected him. No amount of apologies or regrets would turn back the clock on what was gone. It was said Thornes only loved once. His wife might be the exception to the family legend.
“We should go eat,” he said in place of all the words struggling to be heard.
Ryker had locked himself in his study directly after lunch, and GiGi was bored out of her mind. None of her family members had answered any of the texts she’d shot off last night or today. Either all the cell towers in the Leiper’s Fork vicinity were suddenly down, or the Thornes were all complicit with the lockdown. She suspected the latter.
Reading wasn’t an option because the furniture in the living room and bedroom seemed to have a mind of its own and continuously dumped her out. If she wasn’t quick on her feet, her backside would be one solid bruise.
All she had left to do was wander the house and reminisce about the past. It was depressing as hell. She found herself back in the kitchen, staring at the island. A touch of the stone surface proved cool, and she wondered what Ryker had thought upon seeing the redesigned space.
Gone were the mocha-stained shaker cabinets they’d so lovingly decided on together. Gone were the dark granite countertops. The black appliances had been updated to stainless. Now, the upper cabinets were the palest of grays, and the lowers were a deep charcoal. The granite had been replaced with a white quartz flecked with silver, and the backsplash was a white subway pattern that gave the entire space a clean, uniform look.
Even with the changes, the kitchen had been rarely used. Once the heart of the home, now it was just an abandoned space she gave a cursory magical cleaning every few days.
Overcome with the urge to bake, she tried to conjure the items she’d need. Nothing. Damn her brother!
“What if I tell you I’m making a pie for Ryker?” she called out. “Will you provide the stupid ingredients then?
“You’re going to make me a pie?”
GiGi whipped around and found her husband lounging in the doorway, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.
“I will if it gets me the items I need to bake.”
“I could try to conjure them for you.” He straightened and closed the distance between them. “I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to touch them, but I’m willing to help if you show me what to do.”
Did she want his help? It would mean a close proximity for at least a half hour or more. Every second spent in his company slowly ate away at her anger and determination to be free of him. Dare she risk the thawing of her heart?
“I thought you were working.”
“Nothing is pressing, but if it were, it’s not like I could accomplish a thing with my chair bucking like a bronco with a burr under the saddle.”
The visual made her giggle. “I had a similar experience when I tried to read a book.”
“What do you say? Want an assistant baker?”
“If I don’t do something, I’ll lose my mind and set fire to this place,” she groused.
“It might give this space some warmth,” he muttered.
“You don’t like the new design?”
“It’s cold. Almost clinical. There isn’t one thing decorating the counters.”
Ryker surprised a gasp from her. A quick glance around the room proved him right. “I never noticed.”
“You don’t spend much time in here?”
What could she tell him? Despite giving the kitchen a facelift, GiGi had been unable to exorcise the ghosts. Everywhere she looked, she saw him whipping up an omelet or pouring a glass of wine. Or worse yet, the two of them making love.
“No. Initially, I would have dinner with Preston and the girls. As they grew older and family dinners became less frequent, I would sometimes go to Nashville for an evening. Mostly, I would magically create what I felt like eating and watch television or read.”
“I should never have left you alone.”
“It no longer matters.” Or so she tried to tell herself.
He opened his mouth as if to form a retort, thought better about what he wanted to say, and shook his head. “What ingredients do we need?”
“What flavor pie would you like?”
“Cherry?”
He was able to produce everything they needed and then some. “I thought we could make cookies while we’re at it.”
Ryker looked so boyish and earnest, GiGi had to laugh. “Fine. Cookies, too.”
Oddly enough, the cookie sheets, pie pan, and large mixer were all present and accounted for. Ryker assigned himself as Mix Master, and GiGi was to measure the ingredients because she was going by her mother’s recipe that she’d memorized.
They kept the atmosphere light and playful, neither delving into hurtful topics. It wasn’t until he was rolling out the dough and she was dropping spoonfuls of chocolate chip cookie dough on the parchment paper that she brought up the question upmost in her mind.
“Ryker? How long do you think Alastair plans to draw this out?”
He paused for a mere heartbeat or two before he continued the chore she’d given him. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I imagine until we reconcile or he’s satisfied our marriage is over.”
She stopped and studied him. “But our marriage is over. You understand that, right?” She was desperate for him to agree with her. The time to move on was now. She needed it to be now. No longer could she walk around faithful to a man and a love that was never meant to be.
“I understand you want it to be.” Throwing down the rolling pin, he braced his hands on the counter’s edge. “Because this is your heartfelt desire, I’m going along with it. But never for one minute believe it’s what
I wanted. It’s not.” He went to the sink and washed his hands. “I think you can handle the rest of this on your own. Come find me when you want dinner.”
He was gone before she could apologize.
Why was she the one always left feeling like the bad guy? She was the person wronged in this relationship. Why, when all she wanted was to live out her days in relative peace? Maybe she should travel more. Perhaps take the occasional lover here or there. For sure, she would never love again, that was the family curse, but that didn’t mean her sexual well should be left to run dry. It had been abandoned for too many years to count, unless one considered her battery-operated boyfriend.
With a resigned sigh, she placed the pans of cookies in the oven to bake and finished making the pie. Maybe she could use it as a peace offering at dinner. Despite what everyone thought about her, she didn’t want to fight with Ryker. She just wanted him out of her life.
Her cell buzzed. A quick check of the screen showed a message from Sebastian Drake. She’d met him a few weeks back when she and Aurora were doing what they could to find Aurora’s brother, Jace. Sebastian had shown a marked interest in her and went so far as to acquire her phone number.
Still married?
She grimaced and typed, For another few weeks.
Her phone pinged.
Want to have dinner with me tonight?
Did she?
Can’t. I’m being held prisoner in my own house.
The phone in her hand rang, and Sebastian barely let her get out the “Hello.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he said.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Text me your location. I’ll come.”
“I’m not in danger, Baz. I’m merely unable to leave.”
“What’s going on, GiGi?”
“My brother thought it would be a brilliant idea to trap me in the house with Ryker until we settled our differences.” She heard a choked laugh come across the line and scowled. “Seriously? You think it’s funny?”