by Joss Wood
“Jesus, no!” Ryan looked horrified and he cursed. “But he knows that you are different from the women he normally runs into.”
Oh, different, yay. Generally in her experience that meant less than. “Super,” she said drily.
“Look, you’re real.”
“Real?” Jaci asked, confused.
“Yeah. Despite your almost aristocratic background, you seem to have your feet planted firmly on the ground. You aren’t a gold digger or a slut or a party girl or a diva. You’re as normal as it comes.”
“Is normal higher up on the attractiveness ladder than real?” She just couldn’t tell.
Ryan muttered a curse. “You are determined to misunderstand me. I’m just trying to explain why your openness, lack of bitchiness and overall genuineness is helluva attractive.”
“Oh, so you do think that I am attractive?” Jaci muttered and heard Ryan’s sharp intake of breath.
“No, of course not. I just made love to you all last night because I thought you were a troll.” Ryan sent her one of those male looks that clearly stated he thought she was temporarily bat-lolly insane.
“Oh.” Jaci felt heat creep across her face. She noticed him clenching and releasing his fists as if he were trying to stop himself from reaching for her. And in a flash she could feel the thump-thump-thump of her own heart, could hear the sound as clearly as she could read the desire in his eyes.
Ryan Jackson hadn’t had nearly enough of her or, she had to admit, her of him. One more time, Jaci told herself, she could give herself the present of having, holding, feeling Ryan again. He wanted her, she wanted him, so what was the problem?
Career, Banks, sleeping with your boss? Jaci ignored the sensible angel on her shoulder and slid off her chair, her body heating from the inside out and her stomach and womb taking turns doing tumbles and backflips inside her body.
“One more time,” she muttered as she stroked her hand up Ryan’s chest to grip his neck and pull his mouth down to hers.
“Why do I suspect that’s not going to be enough?” Ryan muttered, his lips a fraction from hers.
“It has to be. Shut up and kiss me,” Jaci demanded, lifting herself up on her toes.
Ryan’s lips curved against hers. “Just as long as we won’t be married when we come up for air.”
“Funny.” Jaci just got the words out before Ryan took possession of her mouth, and then no words were needed.
* * *
Jaci, sitting in Ryan’s office four days later, was struggling to keep her pretend-you-haven’t-licked-me-there expression, especially now that their conversation had moved on from discussing the script changes he and Thom wanted. She hadn’t seen Ryan since she left his apartment the morning after the ballet; he hadn’t called, he hadn’t texted.
And that was the way it should be, she told herself. What they’d shared was purely bedroom based. It meant nothing more than two adults succumbing to a primal desire that had driven mankind for millennia. He’d wanted her, she’d wanted—God, that was such a tame word for the need he’d aroused in her!—him and that was all it was.
Then why did she want to ask him why his eyes looked bleak? Why did she want to climb into his lap, place her face into his neck and tell him that it would all work out? She wanted to massage the knots out of his neck, smooth away the frown between his heavy brows, kiss away the bracket that appeared next to his mouth. He was off-the-charts stressed and it was all her fault.
She’d put his relationship with his investor on the line. It was amazing that she was still discussing script changes, that he hadn’t fired her scrawny ass.
“Have you heard anything from Banks yet?” she demanded, pulling her gaze away from the view of the Hudson River.
Ryan looked startled at the sudden subject change. He exchanged a long look with Thom and after their silent communication, Thom stood up. “Actually...”
Thom lifted a hand and he ambled to the door. “You can explain. Later.”
Jaci’s eyebrows rose. “Explain what?”
Ryan tapped the nib of a pen on the pad of paper next to his laptop. “We’ve been invited to join a dinner on a luxury yacht tonight. The invitation came from Banks’s office. Apparently Leroy’s just bought himself an Ajello superyacht and this is its initial voyage. Lucky Leroy, those are only the best yachts in the world.”
Jaci stood up and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her pants.
“I like your outfit,” Ryan commented.
Jaci looked down at the deep brown leather leggings she’d teamed with a flowing white top and multiple strands of ethnic beads. It was nice to wear something other than black, she thought, and it made her feel warm and squirmy that Ryan approved. “I must be doing something right because a random man complimented my outfit in a coffee shop yesterday, as well.”
“Honey, any man under dead would’ve noticed those stupendous legs under that flirty skirt.” She saw the flare of heat in his eyes and looked down at her feet encased in knee-high leather boots. Damn but she really wanted to walk over to him and kiss him senseless. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch and her legs parted as if... Dear Lord, this was torture!
“I’m glad that the furor over our possible engagement has died down,” she said, trying to get her mind to stop remembering how fantastic Ryan looked naked.
“It was nothing that my PR firm couldn’t handle,” Ryan said, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands on his flat stomach. “As of the columns this morning, we’re still seeing each other, but any talk of marriage is for the very distant future.”
Jaci felt her shoulders drop and quickly pulled them up again. She had no reason to feel let down, no reason at all. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, not even a pretend one. She’d been engaged, had talked incessantly about marriage—and what did she get out of that? Humiliation and hurt. Yeah, no thanks.
“As for Leroy’s silence, you know what they say, no news is good news.” Ryan picked up a file from his desk and flipped it open.
“Shouldn’t you call him, say something, do something?” Jaci demanded, and his eyes rose at her vehement statement.
Ryan closed his file and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a game, Jaci, and I’m playing it,” he replied, linking his fingers on his stomach. Then his eyes narrowed. “You don’t like the way I’m playing it?”
“I don’t know the flipping rules!” Jaci snapped back. “And it’s my future that’s at stake, too. I have a lot to lose, but I can’t do anything to move this along.”
Ryan frowned at her outburst. “It’s not the end of the world, Jace. Don’t you and your siblings have a big trust fund that’s at your disposal? It’s not like you’ll be out on the streets if this movie never gets produced. And you’ll write other scripts, have other chances.”
Could she tell him? Did she dare? She’d hinted at how important this was to her before, but maybe if he understood how crucial it really was, he’d understand why this situation was making her stress levels redline. And it wasn’t as if he was a stranger; she had known him for years.
“This script means more to me than just a break into the industry, Ryan. It’s more than that. It’s more than my career or my future...” She saw him frown and wondered how she could explain the turbulent, churning emotions inside. “It’s a symbol, a tipping point, a fork in the road.”
She expected him to tell her to stop being melodramatic, but he just sat calmly and waited for her to continue. “You buying my script and offering me a job to work on Blown Away was—is—more than a career opportunity. It was the catalyst that propelled me into a whole new life.” Jaci gestured to her notes on the desk. “That’s all mine...my effort, my words, my script. This is something I did, without my parents’ knowledge or without them pulling any strings. It’s t
he divide between who I was before and who I am now. God, I am so not explaining this well.”
“Stop editing yourself and just talk, Jace.”
“On one side of the divide, I was the Brookes-Lyon child who drifted from job to job, who played at writing, maybe to get her mother’s attention. Then I became Clive’s fiancée and an object of press attention and I had to grow a spine, fast. I couldn’t have survived what I did without it. When I left London, I vowed that I wasn’t going to fade into the background again.”
“Yeah, you used to do that as a kid. Your family would take over and dominate a room, a conversation, yet you wouldn’t contribute a thing.” His mouth twitched. “Now you won’t shut up.”
“It’s because I’m different in New York!” Jaci stated, her face animated. “I’m better here. Happier, feistier!”
“I like feisty.” Ryan murmured his agreement in a low voice, heat in the long, hot glance he sent her.
It was so hard to ignore the desire in his voice. But she had to. “I don’t want to go backward, Ry. If I lose this opportunity...”
Ryan frowned at her and leaned forward. “Jaci, what you do is not who you are. You can still be feisty without the job.”
Could she be? She didn’t think so; Sassy Jaci needed to be successful. If she wasn’t then she’d just be acting. She didn’t want to skate through her life anymore. She wanted to live and feel and be this new Jaci. She liked this new Jaci.
Ryan pinned her to the floor with his intense blue-gray stare. “Have a little faith, Jace. It will all work out.”
But what if it didn’t? Who would she be if she couldn’t be New York Jaci? She didn’t know if she could reinvent herself again. She saw Ryan looking over his desk, saw his hand moving toward the folder he’d discarded minutes before and read the silent message. It was time to go back to work, so she started for the door.
Ryan’s phone rang and he lifted his finger to delay her. “Hang on a sec. We still need to talk about the yacht thing tonight.”
Oh, bats, she’d forgotten about that. Jaci stopped next to his desk.
“Hey, Jax.” The voice of Ryan’s PA floated through the speakers of the phone. “Jaci’s mother is on the phone and she sounds...determined. I think Jaci needs to take this.”
“Sure, put her through.”
Jaci shot up and pulled her hand across her throat in a slashing motion. Dear Lord, the last person in the world she wanted to talk to was her mother. She still hadn’t told them that she was working as a scriptwriter, that she was pseudo-dating Ryan...
“Morning, Priscilla.”
Jaci glared at him and grabbed the pen out of his hand and scribbled across the writing pad in front of him. I’m NOT here; she underlined the not three times.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and quickly swung his right leg around the back of her knees to cage her between his legs. Jaci sent him her death-ray glare, knowing that she couldn’t struggle without alerting her mother to her presence. As it was she was certain that Priscilla could hear her pounding heart and shaky breathing as she stood trapped between Ryan’s legs.
“Ryan, darling boy.” Priscilla’s voice was as rich and aristocratic as ever. “How are you? It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. I can’t wait to see you at Neil’s wedding next weekend.”
Jaci slapped her hand against her forehead and stifled her gasp of horror. She’d forgotten all about Neil’s blasted wedding. It was next weekend? Good Lord! How had that happened?
Jaci quickly drew a hanging man on the pad, complete with a bulging tongue, and she felt the rumble of laughter pass through Ryan as he exchanged genialities with her mother, quickly explaining that Jaci had just left his office. Ryan was talking about his duties as best man when she felt him grip the waistband of her pants and pull her down to sit on his hard thigh. Jaci sent him a startled look. Being this close was so damn tempting...
Oh, who was she kidding? Being in the same room as Ryan was too damn tempting. Jaci closed her eyes as his hand moved up her back and gripped the nape of her neck. His other hand briefly rested on her thigh before he pulled the pen from her hand and scribbled on the pad with his left hand. Huh, he was left-handed... She’d forgotten.
Jaci looked down at the pad, and it took a moment for her to decipher his scrawl. Why don’t you want to talk to your mother?
“Yes, I have my suit and Neil told me, very clearly and very often, that he didn’t want a stag party. He couldn’t take the time away from work.”
Jaci grabbed another pen from his container of stationery and scribbled her reply. Because she doesn’t know what I am doing in New York and that we’re...you know.
Why not? & what does “you know” mean? Sleeping together? Pretending to date?
Jaci kept half an ear on her mother’s ramblings. After nearly thirty years of practice, she knew when she’d start slowing down, and they had at least a minute.
All of it, she replied. She—they—just think that I’m licking my wounds. They don’t take my work—
Jaci stopped writing and stared at the page. Ryan tapped the page with the pen in a silent order for her to finish her sentence. She sent him a small smile and lifted her shoulders in an it-doesn’t-matter shrug. Ryan’s glare told her it did.
“Anyway, what on earth is this nonsense I’m reading in the press about you and Jaci?”
Ah, her mother was upset. Jaci, perfectly comfortable on Ryan’s knee, sucked in her cheeks and stared at a point beyond Ryan’s shoulder.
“What have you heard?” Ryan asked, his tone wary. The hand moved away from her neck to draw large, comforting circles on her back. Jaci felt herself relax with every pass of his hand.
“I have a list,” Priscilla stated. Of course she did. Priscilla would want to make sure that she didn’t forget anything. “Firstly, is she working as a scriptwriter for you?”
“She is.”
“And you’re paying her?” There was no missing the astonishment in her voice.
“I am.” Jaci heard the bite in those two words as he drew three question marks on the pad.
Not serious writing, Jaci replied. Ryan’s eyes narrowed at her response, and she felt her stomach heat at his annoyance at her statement. Nice to be appreciated.
“She’s a very talented writer,” Ryan added. “She must have got that from you.”
Thanks, Jaci wrote as his words distracted her mother and she launched into a monologue about her latest book, set in fourteenth-century England. Jaci jumped when she felt his hand on the bare skin of her back. His fingers rubbed the bumps on her spine and Jaci felt lightning bolts dance where he touched her.
Concentrate! she wrote.
Can do two things at once. God, your skin is so soft.
We’re not doing this again!
And you smell so good.
“Anyway, I’m getting off the subject. Are you and Jaci engaged or not?” Priscilla demanded.
“Not,” Ryan answered, his eyes on Jaci’s mouth. She knew that he wanted to kiss her and, boy, it was difficult to resist the desire in his eyes, knowing the amount of pleasure he was capable of giving her.
“Good, because after that louse she was engaged to, she needs some time to regroup. That stuffed cloak-bag of guts!” Ryan’s eyebrows flew upward at Priscilla’s venomous statement. Shakespeare, Jaci scribbled. Henry IV.
“Jaci was far too good for him!” Jaci jerked her eyes away from Ryan’s to stare at the phone. Really? And why couldn’t her mother have told her this?
“That business with the Brazilian madam was just too distasteful for words, and so stupid. Did he really think he wouldn’t get caught?”
Brazilian? Madam?
My ex liked a little tickle and a lot of slap.
Ryan stared down at the page before lifting his eyes back to Jaci’s rue
ful face. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“I do hope that she got herself tested after all of that but I can’t ask her,” Priscilla stated in a low voice. “We don’t have that type of relationship. And that’s my fault.”
Jaci’s mouth fell open at that statement. Her mother wished that they were closer? Seriously?
“And what’s going on between you? Are you dating? Is it serious? Are you sleeping together?” Priscilla demanded.
Jaci opened her mouth to tell her that it was none of her damn business, but Ryan’s hand was quicker and he covered her mouth with his hand. She glowered at him and tried to tug his hand away.
“It’s complicated, Priscilla. I’m involved in a deal and, bizarrely, I needed a girlfriend to help me secure it. Jaci stepped up to the plate.” Ryan kept his hand on her mouth. “It’s all pretend.”
“Well, I’m looking at a photograph of the two of you and it doesn’t look like either of you are pretending to me.”
Ryan dropped his hand but not his eyes. “We’re good actors, it seems,” he eventually replied.
“Huh. Well, I hope this mess gets sorted out soon,” Priscilla said. “Not that I would mind if you and Jaci were involved. I have always liked you.”
“Thank you,” Ryan replied. “The sentiment is returned.”
Such a suck-up, Jaci scribbled and gasped when his arm pulled her against his chest. Against her hip she could feel his hard erection, and she really couldn’t help nestling her face into his neck and inhaling his scent. Damn, she could just drift away, right here, right now, in his arms.
“I must go. Take care of my baby, Ryan.”
Ryan’s arms tightened around Jaci and she sighed. “Will do, Priscilla.”
“Bye, Ryan. Bye, my darling Jaci.”
“Bye, Mom,” Jaci replied lazily, the fingers of her left hand diving between the buttons of his dress shirt to feel his skin. Then her words sank in and she shot up and looked at Ryan in horror as the call disconnected.
“She knew that I was here. The witch!”