by Cindy Kirk
“Betsy is a fabulous cook.” Adrianna’s long slender fingers curved around the wineglass as she lifted it to her full lips and took a sip. “She came over this morning and helped me get the dinner together. Left to my own talents, this feast would not have been nearly so delightful.”
Ryan’s admiration for Adrianna inched up another notch. Not many women would be so generous with their praise. He had the feeling she cooked much better than she was admitting.
“Betsy is a special woman.” Adrianna smiled in her friend’s direction.
“She’s a good friend.” Ryan put extra emphasis on the last word, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding.
“It’s been hard on her, being estranged from her mother and having Keenan...gone.” The corners of Adrianna’s lips lifted when Betsy laughed at something Benedict Campbell said. “I like seeing her happy.”
Ryan absently nodded, his entire attention suddenly drawn to Betsy. He didn’t like the way Ben was looking at her. The prominent Jackson Hole orthopedic surgeon was known for being a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. He wondered if Betsy was aware of that fact. Perhaps he’d have to find a way to bring it to her attention on the drive home. It was a good thing she was interested in Tripp. He wouldn’t want her falling for Benedict.
“When Betsy called, I sensed she was concerned that I might not want you here.”
Ryan reluctantly jerked his attention back to Adrianna. It almost looked as if Ben had placed his hand on Betsy’s knee. But that wasn’t his concern. He was here to make a good impression on Adrianna and to mend that long-ago rift. His hostess had just given him the perfect opportunity to discuss that incident. He needed to take advantage of it and not worry so much about Betsy. Still, he kept one eye focused in her direction.
“I’m sorry about the high school incident,” he said to Adrianna. The regret in his voice was real. He hadn’t known she’d be in the middle of changing her clothes when he’d led the charge into the locker room. “Truly if I knew you—”
“Didn’t have any clothes on—”
“—I never would have entered the locker room.” His voice was low, for her ears only. “Please accept my apology.”
Her gaze narrowed. She searched his eyes. Then a smile lifted her lips. “Accepted.”
Ryan reached over and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. “Thank you.”
Satisfaction flowed through him when she didn’t pull away. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath his lips. But he found he couldn’t fully enjoy the moment.
Not with Benedict holding Betsy’s hand, right across the table from him, with that familiar predatory gleam in his eyes.
Chapter Six
“She accepted my apology.” Ryan handed Betsy a glass of wine and sank into her sofa. He ignored the Pomeranian’s growl of displeasure.
After they’d left Adrianna’s, Betsy invited him to her apartment for a recap of the evening. Outside, snow had begun to fall in earnest, but Ryan scarcely noticed. Betsy’s apartment was warm and inviting. Unlike most of the women he knew, her place had a homey, rather than a designer, feel.
There were rag rugs on the hardwood floors, and the furniture had that comfortable, lived-in look and feel. Her coffee table was rugged with various nicks and stains. When he asked if she had a coaster before he set down his beer can, she’d waved a hand and told him not to worry.
She’d flipped on a couple of table lamps that cast a golden glow over the room, making confidences come more easily. He’d just relayed his conversation with Adrianna. Ryan couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about Benedict. He lifted the can of beer to his lips but didn’t take a sip. “So what was going on with you and Benedict?”
“He’s a nice guy. We were just talking.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Did you like the dinner?”
“It was good. Adrianna said you made most of it.”
“I helped,” Betsy said modestly. “Cooking is a passion of mine.”
“My favorite was the sweet-potato casserole.”
Betsy paused. Were they really going to sit here and talk about the food? When there were so many more important things to discuss?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I saw you kiss Adrianna’s hand.”
He took a sip of beer before speaking. “Do you think it was too much?”
Was he really asking her for dating advice? She, who hadn’t been out on a date in almost a year? She was willing to help him out, but not now. Not this way. Not until she’d given herself a fair chance.
“Trust me, you don’t want to rush Adrianna.”
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”
To her surprise Ryan didn’t seem all that upset. He was a strange one. Like tonight. Unless it was just her overactive imagination, she could have sworn that he’d spent more of the evening watching her than flirting with Adrianna.
“Do you want to play Monopoly?”
Betsy jerked her thoughts back to the present. “What?”
“Monopoly. I haven’t played in years. I see it on your shelf.”
Betsy followed his gaze. There was a bookcase against the wall filled with games and puzzles. She didn’t know what surprised her most—that Ryan had wanted to come in her apartment in the first place or that he appeared to be in no hurry to leave. But she wasn’t complaining. Hadn’t she just this morning made a vow to get to know him better? And let him get to know her?
“Sure,” she said, rising to her feet. “But I’ve got to tell you one thing first.”
“What is that?”
Her lips curved up in broad smile. “I play to win.”
* * *
Two hours later, Ryan landed on Park Place. He let out a groan that could be heard around the world. The rent for the four hotels Betsy had placed on the expensive property took the rest of his money. He leaned back against the soft fabric sofa. “You’re one tough businesswoman, Ms. McGregor.”
Betsy scooped up the paper bills. “It’s a pleasure taking your cash, Mr. Harcourt.”
“Shyster,” he said beneath his breath.
“What did you say?”
“I said I’d be happy to help you pick up.”
“Yeah, it sounded like that.”
They worked together to put all the pieces of the game back together. Ryan couldn’t believe how relaxed he had been all evening. Even though they’d eaten a big dinner, Betsy had brought out some homemade snickerdoodle cookies, and they’d munched on those while playing the game. She hadn’t even objected when he’d asked if they could have the football game on in the background.
To his surprise she was as much of a football fanatic as he was. Yes, he decided, it had been a good evening. Unfortunately now he was going to have to brave the cold and the icy streets and head home alone.
At least he’d had only two beers and those were hours ago. After finishing the one Betsy had given him when he arrived, he’d switched to milk, which went better with cookies anyway.
Betsy scrambled to her feet and put the game away.
He stood, oddly reluctant to have the evening end. “I can’t remember a nicer Thanksgiving. Thanks for inviting me.”
She retrieved his coat from the hall closet. “I had a good time, too.”
He wanted to ask her what she was doing this weekend but thought better of it. Besides, it shouldn’t really be her plans he should be inquiring about; it should be Adrianna’s. “Is it okay if I give you a call tomorrow?”
Betsy nodded. “I’ll be around.”
Ryan shrugged on his coat, making sure the zipper was all the way up. When he walked out of Betsy’s front door, he’d be outside. No enclosed hallway or common foyer for this apartment complex. Certainly no covered parking. While Ryan hadn’t looked outside lately, he had no doubt the weather had worsened.
He reached for the knob but stopped when he felt her hand on his sleeve.
“Drive safe,” she said, her eyes dark and unreadable. “The roads are bound to be snow-packed by no
w.”
Ryan turned the knob and reluctantly pulled the inner door toward him, then pushed open the storm door. The wind immediately tore the door from his hands, flinging it against the siding. Snow filled the air, whipping against his face, making it difficult to see. With Herculean effort he finally got both doors shut, then paused to wipe the ice particles from his face. “I thought the forecasters said we were only getting a dusting. It’s a blizzard out there.”
Betsy’s brows pulled together in a worried frown. “You can’t drive home in that.”
“I don’t see that I have another option.” He pulled the gloves from his pockets, praying he’d put the scraper back in his truck’s cab.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Betsy lifted her chin. “I won’t allow it.”
“Why, Miss Betsy,” Ryan said in an exaggerated Southern drawl, “are you inviting me to spend the night?”
“I’m not inviting,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m telling. You’re staying here with me where you’ll be safe.”
An image flashed through his head. Him and Betsy, cuddled under the mounds of quilts he’d seen on her bed when he’d used the bathroom earlier.
“I’m not sleeping in your bed.” Sleeping with Betsy would make no sense on so many counts that it would be difficult to name them all. If he was going to get naked with anyone, it would be Adrianna.
“I don’t recall offering that option.” Betsy jerked her head in the direction of the sofa. “It’s a sleeper, so you should be comfortable. I know this place isn’t as big or as nice—”
He put two fingers over her lips, silencing her words. “I like it here. I feel comfortable. As long as you keep the little red fluffball away from me.”
“Puffy is going through a difficult time. Aunt Agatha was her whole world. She simply needs a little TLC and time to adjust.”
From several things Betsy had said during the game, Ryan knew she hadn’t planned on having a dog. Not only because of the expense, but also because she wasn’t home all that often. Despite those issues, she’d taken the ten-year-old dog into her home and into her heart because it was the right thing to do.
According to Betsy, her great-aunt had loved Puffy as if the dog were her own child. There was no way Betsy was letting her go to the pound or to a stranger. Ryan doubted any of the women he’d dated would make such a sacrifice.
Even Adrianna.
* * *
It didn’t take long before they were both ready for bed. Betsy gave him a pair of pajamas she’d bought in case Keenan was ever able to visit. When she pushed them into his hands, Ryan accepted, knowing his friend wasn’t likely to use them.
She went into her bedroom to change. When she came out, he did a double take. Flannel pajamas with feet? “I haven’t seen a pair of those since I was four years old.”
Her cheeks turned bright pink. “They keep my feet warm.”
“You’re not going to impress anyone wearing that getup to bed.”
She lifted her chin in a defiant tilt. “You’re the only one I see here now, and I’m certainly not trying to impress you.”
Despite her bravado, he could see that he’d hurt her feelings, which wasn’t his intent at all. The truth was, seeing her in such a getup made his fingers itch to take it off her, to see the creamy flesh beneath, to touch her, to kiss her all over....
He pulled his thoughts up short. Seeing Adrianna and having such a pleasant conversation with her this evening must have sent his hormones surging.
“I was just thinking of you and Tripp,” Ryan said. “Most guys like silky, sheer stuff.”
“I appreciate your advice.” Her tone said she didn’t appreciate it at all. “But I think I can be trusted to handle my own love life. Good night, Ryan.”
He sat on the top of the blankets she’d given him for his makeshift bed. “Don’t I get a good-night kiss?”
Ryan expected her to say no. Possibly in a not-so-very-nice tone. Instead she crossed the room and kissed him on the lips, like she’d done earlier. Only this time she let her lips linger for an extra heartbeat. “Sleep tight.”
“You, too,” he called out as she flicked off the lights and headed to her room.
He crawled under the covers and pulled them up to his chin. Betsy might look like a sweet innocent, but she sure knew how to kiss.
Tripp Randall, he thought to himself, better prepare to be dazzled.
* * *
Even though they’d been up late the night before, Puffy was ready to go outside at 7:00 a.m. Betsy tiptoed into the living room, holding the dog in her arms, hoping she wouldn’t wake Ryan.
She cast a glance at the couch when she slipped past it. His hair was all mussed and stubble graced his lean cheeks. His eyes were shut and he was breathing easily. From the position of the covers, it looked as though he hadn’t moved a muscle all night.
He was still sleeping by the time Betsy brought Puffy inside. She quickly fed the dog, then brought her back to bed. Once under the quilts, Puffy quickly fell back asleep. Betsy wasn’t so lucky.
All she could think of was Ryan lying in the other room. When they’d begun the evening, she hadn’t been sure she’d get to see him today. Now here he was. In her apartment. Sleeping. With her.
Well, not technically with her. He’d just happened to get stranded at her place. They’d had a good time last night. And she’d learned a lot.
As they played the game, they’d started talking about the people they’d dated in the past. She hadn’t realized before then just how many women Ryan had dated and how many times he’d fancied himself in love. While he talked, her mind began counting up the women who at one time or another seemed like “the one” to him. It was a staggering number.
In one way it was reassuring. Was he really in love with Adrianna? Or simply in love with being in love?
It was also worrisome. What if he did fall in love with her? Would she always have to worry that he’d fall out of love as quickly as he fell into it?
“We’re not even close to being at that point.” Betsy stroked Puffy’s soft fur. “There’s no need worrying about it...right?”
The Pomeranian opened her eyes, stared at Betsy for a long moment, then licked her chin.
Tears sprang to Betsy’s eyes. She couldn’t help it. Sometimes she felt so alone. Other than Adrianna, how long had it been since she’d had someone in her life? Someone she truly cared about?
Keenan. But he was in prison.
Aunt Agatha. She was dead.
Ryan. Who considered her simply a means to an end.
But she was going to change that, right? She was going to make him fall in love with her. Which wasn’t going to happen if he spent the rest of the morning in bed.
“Time to get up,” she called out. “We’re going to—”
The words died in her throat when she saw Ryan, all tall, dark and handsome, standing in the doorway to her bedroom, still in Keenan’s pajamas.
“What are we going to do?” He stifled a yawn.
Betsy’s heart fluttered in her chest. “I thought I’d make breakfast. Later, maybe we could build a snowman.”
It had been an impulsive thought, and the second the words left Betsy’s mouth she wished she could pull them back. Even though her parka and mittens would keep her toasty warm no matter what the temperature, her cheeks would get chapped and her nose would turn a red that would rival Rudolph’s. Hardly a way to make an impression. She should take a clue from Adrianna. Her friend wouldn’t be caught dead playing in the snow.
“Snowman?”
“Of course if you can’t stay or aren’t interested I completely understand,” she said quickly.
“No, I’m interested.”
Her heart nearly stopped when he crossed the room and sat on the bed. He rubbed his arms up and down with his hands. “Jeesh, it’s cold in here.”
“I keep the temperature at fifty-eight,” Betsy admitted. “Saves on heating costs.”
“I bet it does.”
Before she knew what was happening he’d flung aside the covers and slipped into bed beside her. Puffy growled but moved over to make room for him.
“What—what are you doing?” Betsy stammered.
“What does it look like?” Ryan said. “I’m preventing myself from getting frostbite while we discuss our plans for the day.”
“Oh.” Betsy forced herself to breathe. While a tad awkward, this was no different than sitting across the table from him talking over a cup of coffee. Right? Wrong. The desire to fling her leg over his and plant an openmouthed kiss on his neck told Betsy that much.
“What shall we have for breakfast?” he asked in a husky voice that did strange things to her insides. “Cereal?”
Betsy made a face. “I was thinking more along the lines of eggs, bacon and brioche French toast.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ryan said. “Then what?”
“Nothing,” Betty stammered, finding it difficult to think with him so near. She’d be lucky if he thought she had a single brain cell in her head.
“You said something about building a snowman,” he prompted, proving despite that sleepy look he’d been listening.
“I haven’t done it in years,” she admitted. “It’s not much fun building them alone.”
Sheesh, Bets. Why not just paint a big L on your forehead?
“I think we should build one,” he said. “And you know what else?”
Betsy shook her head, unable to keep from staring at those luscious lips of his.
“We should call Adrianna and ask her to join us.”
Chapter Seven
Betsy felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Still, she didn’t think Ryan noticed her surprise. Because of her mother’s shocking behavior, she’d had years of practice schooling her features.
“What a good idea,” she said brightly. “I’ll give Adrianna a call right now.”
Pushing the sheets and comforter aside, Betsy hopped out of bed, not even minding the coolness of the air. All she knew was she had to put some distance between her and Ryan. Give herself a few seconds to compose her thoughts and her emotions.