An oasis of greenery and plants completely covered an enormous flagstone patio. Raised planters and an assortment of unique pots overflowed with an abundance of colors, heights, and textures.
It was like walking into a memory of his father, and he struggled from the emotional impact.
A voice he was certain belonged to Jen was barking orders. He looked at her as she waved her arms at the foreman and pointed.
His eyes narrowed. Wait a minute. What the hell? This was Jen Carlton, right? Or did she have a doppelgänger? Maybe a twin?
Ryan’s jaw cranked open as he took her in.
The uptight, suit wearing, business dominatrix with a penchant for order was nowhere to be found. In her place was a knockout babe who looked more pagan than perfect. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Starting with the floral Wellington boots that for some reason shocked the crap out of him, he drifted his eyes slowly upward over thighs that solicited filthy thoughts. It was the tattered short shorts with the pockets showing that started his brain melting. Her grungy t-shirt had seen better days—possibly in the past century.
Nothing was left of his melted man-brain after he got a good look at her hair and face.
Used to an impossibly smooth and severe hairstyle, Ryan wasn’t expecting to see her any other way. She wore a messy knot on the back of her head that seemed to be in suspended animation with loads of loose tendrils. Her cheeks were bright pink, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her face and neck. Without her woman’s armor of impeccable makeup and styling, she resembled a mere mortal. A very sexy, very fuckable female who still didn’t know that he was in her midst.
Had he made a mistake by barging in? Perhaps. Though finding a different Jen than the one he expected explained why John had reacted so curiously to hearing that Ryan took her home. His brother must suspect she rocked a second and very surprising life.
Debating a hasty retreat, he hesitated a moment too long. She was waving her arms at the greenery behind him and explaining things to the workmen when she saw him. And froze.
Raking unsteady fingers through his long hair, Ryan met her shocked gaze and held firm. He saw her swallow. Noted how her pink cheeks turned a ruddy scarlet before she tightened like a screw.
The foreman didn’t know he’d inadvertently allowed an unwanted person to infiltrate his client’s hideout, so the clueless guy kept talking over her silence.
During the minute that ticked by in slow motion, he and Jen stared at each other. He tried to pin down the reactions flashing in her eyes and on her face, but only one stood out. And it looked as though, despite her annoyance, she might be a little glad to see him.
After a half an hour of grunts, groans, and shouted instructions, the large tree was upright in its concrete planter. When the work crew ran off to bring up the two smaller trees, she turned on him with a vengeance that Ryan found oddly titillating.
“You do know that I have to quit now, right? Thanks a lot, jerk face. Nice job.”
She spat at him with her hands slapped to her hips, and man, what a sight she made as she stood her ground in the absurd outfit and rained hail, fire, and brimstone down on him for invading her personal space.
Splotches of dirt were evident on her legs while a smudge decorated one cheek and extended down her chin and onto her neck. Her t-shirt was more a handiwipe than clothing, and a quick glimpse of her hands would probably make a manicurist drop like a stone.
Bottom line? Jen Carlton caught off guard was a hot mess.
He wanted to tell his dick to stop laughing and behave, but it was too late. His dormant libido came back online with one hell of a power surge thanks to the most unexpected sexual attraction of all time, complicated in no small measure by the fact he already found her mentally and emotionally stimulating. Discovering a hidden and very astonishing side to Jen was the wild card he couldn’t ignore.
“Zip it, lady. No one is quitting, and you and I have different definitions of the word jerk face.”
She squinted and gave off an air that suggested he was a half-wit. “What the hell does that even mean?”
He couldn’t believe she walked straight into the best innuendo comeback of all time.
“What? You mean jerk face?”
“Yes,” she sniped with absolutely no authority whatsoever. In her business suit and wearing a face of makeup, she was definitely intimidating. But Wellies, cutoffs, a sloppy hair knot, and a grubby shirt? No way.
“You are a jerk face,” she replied with a grouchy pithiness that made him want to laugh.
“I disagree,” he challenged.
“What?”
Her disbelief that he challenged her was funnier than a YouTube monkey video.
“You can have a jerk face, but you can’t be one.”
Again, all she said was, “What?”
Ryan gave a lazy shrug. “I thought this was something you gals discussed. The jerk face.”
Her expression was hilarious. Clearly, she thought he was a dolt.
“Are you totally … what?”
He couldn’t help the idiot grin on his face. Her confusion and indignation were making this too easy.
“Jen, Jen,” he drawled. “Surely, you know this? One must be jerking to make a jerk face.”
She rubbed her nose with a grimy hand and pushed her wayward hair out of her face. “You’re not making any sense.” Her brows bumped together. “Must be jerking what?”
Oh god, really? Had she actually gone there? He counted. One ... two ... three ... and then her face lit up with understanding.
“You are a pig,” she snarled just as the crew reappeared with a dogwood tree and something else he didn’t get a good look at.
He helped her and the work crew get the greenery situated and then wandered the terrace as she signed for the delivery. It was impossible not to be moved by her extraordinary efforts. Here, in the heart of the city, was a hidden gem. A green sanctuary that blew him away.
More memories of his dad crowded Ryan’s mind. He thought about the trees his family planted at their suburban home and remembered the two greenhouses where his father kept the high-maintenance plants that fascinated him so.
When he realized a trellis covered in vines and flowers partially obscured a second part of the terrace, he turned the corner and stopped dead when he saw the rooftop greenhouse. The city’s roof gardens were hardly a secret, but to find himself in the midst of a horticultural Shangri-La when he envisioned an Ikea commercial as her home base left him at a loss.
11
Who did this happen to?
Me, that’s who.
Jen shooed the nursery workmen from her apartment and shut the door with a decisive push. She leaned against it and considered her options.
The shock of finding Ryan standing in her apartment was never going to go away. She glanced around and winced. Now he’d know she was a smoke and mirrors actor in her position at Lloyd. There was simply no way to explain her looking glass opposite world—not without sounding like a loon.
Playing with her sloppy hair, she quickly nixed the notion of attempting a costume and scenery change. Ryan was too savvy for such a daft maneuver.
For the length of time it took to stomp down the hallway, she considered the fact he was there for a reason and let out a series of harsh breaths. Jen rubbed her temple and groaned out loud when her hand fell away and she caught sight of her dirty nails.
Could this be any worse?
Stepping through the doors to the terrace, she looked around but couldn’t locate her unwanted guest.
Strutting like an awkward soldier in her unforgiving Wellies, Jen walked the length of the garden terrace and had turned the corner leading to the greenhouse when she finally found him. He was standing in the middle of it with the door open wide.
Ready to play the stern nanny, she was robbed of speech and sense when he turned around and saw her. His eyes were ablaze with emotions she couldn’t understand.
“You grow
orchids,” he murmured.
“And violets,” she told him for no good reason.
She watched as he massaged the back of his neck while his head went back and forth as he took in her greenhouse wonderland.
Tucking a hanging lock of hair behind her ear, Jen bit her lip and followed his gaze. He stopped on a spotted orchid and murmured something she couldn’t hear.
His compelling blue eyes bored into hers. She felt warmth mixed with tension seep into her bones. This man upset her composure and made her wonder things that would only lead to trouble.
Before she realized what she was doing, Jen inched toward him, stopping when she was an arm’s length away. Her gaze focused on his mouth as he licked his lips.
One of them moved, and the next thing she knew, he buried his hands in her hair and held her head. When she placed her palms on his chest, her intention had been to push back. But then she felt the thump of his heart and heard his passionate grunt. Nothing could save her after that.
“The real Jenna Carlton,” he murmured. “We meet at last.”
First, he kissed her with his eyes ... until she shook and some sort of unholy madness consumed her. When his mouth lowered and his strong, enticing lips brushed hers, she drew in a shaky breath.
Mesmerized by his slow, thoughtful kiss, Jen surrendered to the intensifying feelings. He was like a magnet charged with desire, drawing a response from her body and emotions that shocked and excited at the same time.
Tingling when he murmured her name and she felt it on her lips, Jen melted into his embrace as strong arms banded around her body and pressed them together. A delightful pulse of want shuddered through her.
She’d been kissed plenty of times but never like this. What made Ryan different? Was it him? Or her? Or was it what the two of them generated when they came together?
He exuded a presence, a power that Jen was undeniably attracted to. His touch opened a view into the man, which until now had been kept from view. He wasn’t a boy-man, a Peter Pan who never grew up. The tacky shirts and old soul meets hipster vibe was window dressing.
A lot like her Armani suits and hellaciously expensive shoes.
The man commanding her mouth was a creature of a different sort. Confident, manly, and persuasive, Jen welcomed the sensation of drowning in his masculinity with a deep shudder.
Clinging to his shoulders, she rubbed her body on him and deepened the kiss until it was all tongue and out of control.
When his mouth left hers, they gasped for breath, and then he groaned before falling onto her neck to maul her exposed skin until she clung to her sanity on the strength of a single, fraying thread.
He bit her earlobe. She quivered, and a soft whimper rushed from her mouth.
Jen’s senses went haywire, and her ability to stand vanished when she felt his hot breath against her ear, whispering, “Now I understand what still waters run deep means.”
His beastly growl sealed her fate. Her legs wobbled, and she fought for oxygen. He bit her neck so hard, she cried out and gave up all control. When she crumpled, he caught her and swept Jen into his arms. He kissed her madly, deeply, and passionately. And if he’d walked off the ledge of the building and plunged them both straight to hell in the process, she wouldn’t have noticed. Or cared.
Nothing had ever felt like this.
Nothing.
Ever.
Her pulse quickened. His tongue seduced hers and sent shards of ecstasy throughout her body. Hunger and need coalesced inside Jen. It didn’t matter that a sudden insanity consumed them. Not when she felt so at home in his arms.
She kept her arms around his neck as she felt him lowering her body. Their lips separated. A flicker in his deep blue eyes became bold and possessive. She didn’t resist or turn away.
He lowered next to her, and Jen realized they were on the wide chaise lounger that she used for sunbathing. Constructed like a futon, it could be lowered flat, which was how she usually kept it.
An ache started inside her. Unable to stop herself, she raised a thigh and placed it on his hip as he leaned on one arm and did things to her neck and shoulders that made Jen tremble.
They made out like horny teenagers, yet he took his time with everything he did. Kissing. Touching. Licking. Stroking. And they still had all their clothes on.
All but mindlessly humping his leg, she wasn’t amused when he chuckled and drew back.
“Easy, flower girl. What’s the rush?”
Good question. No easy answer. How was she supposed to tell him that orgasms and a man didn’t necessarily go together? Or that when a tingle started, it was best to ride that shit to the end before the fickle response disappeared.
She was breathing hard, and he was looking down at her like she was a rare treasure.
He stroked her face and smiled into her eyes. “Ah.” He chuckled. “I see you’ve never been made love to by a real man.”
She looked away when a heated rush of embarrassment spilled onto her face. He had no idea!
“I’ve always felt that going the distance is more satisfying than a race. Don’t you agree?”
She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well,” he growled as a playful smile tugged at his lips. “It will be my great pleasure to demonstrate how it’s done.”
And what exactly was she supposed to say? ‘Promises, promises,’ came to mind except that she didn’t doubt he had what it took to keep his word.
“First,” he drawled before dropping a kiss on her nose, “the sexy boots have to go. But feel free to wear them anytime you want to be ravished ’cause, lady, they are a definite turn-on.”
He sat up and shifted her legs into a more dignified sprawl before drawing each boot off as though her footwear was made of crystal.
And that was the moment she remembered she was a filthy, grimy mess.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “I’m all sweaty, and I smell awful.”
“Hold on,” Ryan drawled. His sexy chuckle gave her goose bumps. “Here I am doing the whole charming prince thing and you’re worried about B.O.?”
Did he just say Prince Charming? Was he reading her thoughts, or were they just on the same wavelength?
He could not have shocked or turned her on any more than when he stuck his face into her crotch and inhaled.
“If you’re interested in my opinion”—he smirked—“you smell delicious as fuck.”
The giggle shot out of her throat so fast she nearly got whiplash. His responding expression was so hot it scorched her skin.
Propping herself up onto her forearms, she watched in helpless fascination while his fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. He had nice hands. They were big and sturdy—more familiar with a camping hatchet than a fancy pen. The imagery made her insides tighten. Ryan Lloyd was a man, not a boy pretending.
When he removed the shirt, she understood what erotic vapor lock was all about. He was rocking the sort of muscled abs and well-defined chest that Hollywood action stars dreamed about. She wanted to taste his skin and then rub all over his naked body.
He pushed his hair away from his face and stared down into Jen’s eyes. He removed a leather cord around his neck with a quartz crystal. She studied the scruff on his face and wondered what it would feel like against the soft skin of her breasts.
Towering over her, she felt his raking gaze. He stared at her neck for a long moment and then lower, at her heaving chest.
“Ohio State.” He smiled appreciatively. “Beautiful countryside in Ohio. What was your major?”
“Economics and Finance.”
He chuckled. “How did you survive?”
Jen smiled. “Tequila and nachos.”
“Grrr,” he playfully growled. “Aphrodisiac city.”
Smiling at his easy responses, she squeaked and flopped back like a ragdoll when he ripped her flimsy tank t-shirt off with no problem.
Rearing back with his hands over his mouth, he gasped dramatically, then pointed at her chest.
<
br /> “What?” She looked down, trying to figure out what got such a reaction.
“You DO have boobs!”
Oh, hell yeah, she had boobs. Nice ones too, if Cosmo was the judge. But men were far too easily distracted, so boobs were not on her professional playlist. Her power wardrobe, even the sexiest and most feminine suits, kept the girls on lockdown.
Until he broke out a fall down funny comic portrayal of a horny ape—all because of her c-cups—Jen had no idea that humor and playing around had any place whatsoever in the bedroom.
Or the terrace lounge chair.
She might actually like this guy more than a little. Which had to explain why she was getting naked on her terrace with him as if they had sex together—outside—all the damn time.
“I’ve never had sex out here before,” she told him with a smirk.
He looked at her strangely for a second and then came back with a reply that changed everything.
“And your record will remain intact, flower girl.”
She tilted her head and looked at him with a pensive frown. “Then what are we doing? Is this just …” She shrugged.
A sensation of melting into the cushion beneath her seized Jen when he shifted to loom over her with his hands planted on either side of her head.
He smelled like something her mind grappled to interpret. His blue eyes bored into her, and his dirty blond hair with the golden streaks framed his face.
“I’m not interested in having sex with you, Jenna Carlton. To be perfectly blunt,” he rasped, “if that’s what I was about, I could have sex with just about anyone.”
Whispering, “Oh,” she swallowed and melted some more.
“We’re going to make love, and if that’s a foreign concept to you, relax. I’ll show you how.”
She locked onto his eyes and held her breath. Whaaat?
He stroked the side of her face. The gentleness of his touch felt reverent.
“We don’t rush, and it’s okay to laugh.”
His sly, teasing smirk melted her some more and made a smile quiver on her lips.
“And,” he said as he leaned close to her ear. Close enough that she shivered as his hot breath hit her neck. “You’re not to worry. I’ll take care of you.” He licked her ear. “How many times would you like to come?”
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