Gavin shifted in his seat. “Cassie. Why don’t you share your story next?”
Vicky was still looking at Margie, who was gazing at her husband as if he were a stranger. She startled when Ryan’s elbow dug in her ribs.
“What?”
“It’s your turn,” Ryan murmured.
She shot a glance at him, and he gave her an encouraging nod. She took a deep breath. Ugh. She battled the instinct to puke from nervousness.
“Uh, so, how did we meet? Well, we met at a client meeting.” Well, a staff meeting, actually. “I had to organize an event for one of my clients, which turned out to be one of his...partners.” Reese had needed to get into Cuba under cover of darkness to locate a missing scientist.
“Peter sat in on the client briefing.” Ryan had brooded at the end of the table.
“There was just something about him, you know? He was so nice to me, during that first meeting.” The smile she aimed at him was saccharine sweet. He’d argued with every suggestion she’d made.
“And then he asked me out.” He’d told her to go to hell when she’d argued right back. She shrugged and turned back to the group. “And the rest is history.”
“What did you think of him, the moment you saw him?” Neil asked.
“I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.” Actually, that was the truth. Warmth crept into her cheeks. “In a roomful of men, he was the only one I noticed.”
Deborah sighed, and smiled brightly.
“And what do you remember, Peter?” Gavin asked, eyeing Ryan.
Ryan slid his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into his side. She relaxed, smiling shyly at the group while she waited to hear Mr. Pants-On-Fire Liar do his stuff.
“Oh, well, that’s when everything changed, for me. You know, she made me laugh in that meeting, and I knew I was a goner. She really listened to me and when she talked, she made me laugh.”
Oh, yeah, she’d forgotten the part where he’d laughed in her face when she’d suggested flying into Havana with fake identities and passports. He’d stopped laughing when she’d told him where to shove his fake passport.
Ryan wagged his finger at the group. “She made me laugh. That’s when I fell in love with her, that very first meeting.”
Oh, that might be laying it on a bit thick.
“That sounds quite...romantic,” Gavin said. “It makes me wonder why you think you need couple’s therapy and life coaching.”
“She cheats,” Ryan said immediately.
Vicky’s jaw dropped. “I do not!”
“What about that guy a couple of months ago, hmm? The one who asked you over for dinner?”
Vicky rolled her eyes. “That dinner didn’t actually get past the main course. I can’t believe you brought that up.” She hadn’t realized he knew of that night. Oh, how humiliating. Drew must have told him. Damn that gossiping blabbermouth.
Neil frowned. “So you admit you were seeing someone?”
“I wouldn’t actually call it seeing. It was one dinner. Once.”
Margie frowned. “What happened?”
Now her cheeks were hot. “Uh, it didn’t work out.” She could feel Ryan shaking next to her, as though he was secretly laughing. Jerk.
“Why not?” This time it was Elliot who asked.
Oh, gosh, did she really have to do this? She shot a dark look at Ryan. “Because he asked his mother to come downstairs and help him cook.”
“He still lived with his mother?” Hank barked with laughter.
“But, you went out with him,” Deborah said. “On a date. That’s cheating on your husband.”
Vicky realized all members of the group were staring at her like a pariah. “Oh, wait. No, it’s not like that.” But she couldn’t tell them the truth. She pursed her lips. Ryan had neatly set her up as the “wrong” one in the relationship. “He has affairs, too, you know.”
Neil stopped writing and looked up. “Affairs? As in plural?”
“Yep.”
“Cassie,” Ryan said, smiling to the group, “we don’t need to go into this here and now.”
You started it. “He comes back from his ‘business trips’,” Vicky said, using her fingers to parenthesize her words, “with a different woman. Every time.”
“Do not.”
“Do, too. What about that lingerie designer, Barbie?” Vicky retorted. Ryan had returned from a mission to Prague, and she’d been so looking forward to seeing him. Only he’d arrived with the attractive lingerie designer in tow.
“Her name was Barbie?” Deborah squeaked.
“Barbara,” Ryan corrected.
Whatever. “Yeah, well, don’t get all righteous with me about having one date when you’re seeing a different woman every month,” Vicky snapped.
“So, you two have agreed to have an open marriage?” Neil asked, his expression puzzled.
“I wouldn’t say we agreed to it, per se,” Vicky said slowly.
“We...live separate lives,” Ryan commented.
“But you’re here to heal your relationship?” Neil clarified.
Vicky nodded, and sensed Ryan doing the same beside her. The other members of the group exchanged shocked looks.
“O-kay,” Gavin said as he started to write furiously on his notepad. He looked up at them briefly. “I think you guys are going to need more than just four days.”
* * *
Ryan sighed as he and Vicky stopped outside of Gavin’s private lounge. They’d been scheduled for the first couple’s therapy session of the week. Not surprising. He shot Vicky a dry look. With their accusations of infidelity, they’d both come out looking a little soap-opera nasty. Still, everyone had walked out of that group therapy session totally convinced that he and Vicky really needed counseling. He frowned. He wasn’t so sure if that was a good thing.
Ryan knocked on the door.
“Just a minute,” Gavin called out from behind the door. Ryan leaned down a little closer to Vicky.
“Just play along with whatever I do, okay?” he whispered to her, and stopped as she nodded.
She smelled...beautiful. Light, floral, seductive, her perfume reached in and created a fog in his brain, distracting him. She was so close, so warm, so...fragrant. She shot him a skeptical look.
“What?” she whispered.
She’d turned her face a little, bringing her cheek so close to his mouth. Ryan straightened.
Back off. They weren’t married. They weren’t even dating. They were working. Working, Brennan, working. He kept mentally repeating the phrase to himself.
The door opened, and Gavin stood aside, gesturing for them to enter.
“Ah, welcome.” The lifestyle coach smiled warmly at them. Did he just leer at Vicky? Ryan brushed past him, using his bulk as a gentle intimidator on the slightly shorter man.
“Take a seat, please.” The counselor picked up a folder from his desk, and Ryan noticed the surface was immaculate. No other files were out, the blotter was clear, the pen and letter opener sitting in their silver-coated, engraved caddy. Expensive, but just a little too kitschy for Ryan’s taste. He noticed Dryden didn’t use the pen from the stationery set, but held an Ultima resort pen to take his notes. He looked away from the desk. All looks and no substance. He wondered if that extended to the man himself.
There was a deep-cushioned sofa and a wing-backed chair, and Ryan sat with resignation on the sofa. The damn furniture seemed to have been expressly designed with couples in mind.
As Vicky sat next to him, her body rolled slightly into his. While there was plenty of room on the sofa, and it was very comfortable, it did create an intimate sharing of space, forcing their bodies against each other in a manner that was beginning to drive him nuts. Or horny.
Both.
“So
, obviously from our discussion this morning, Neil and I decided that one of the first couple’s sessions would be of more benefit to you two.” Gavin said as he sat in the armchair. Ryan nodded. Great. Jeffrey and Margie had been scheduled for a couple’s massage, Hank and Deborah were on a sleigh ride around the resort, Elliot and Jennifer were doing a wine-tasting session in the resort cellars with Ms. James, the Guest Services Manager, and Kurt and Paula had a session with Neil.
And here he was, stuck in therapy with Vicky.
Gavin sat back in his chair. “So, Peter, what do you want for your relationship?”
Ryan frowned. Hell. He was in hell. Must be. He really didn’t want to talk about him and Vicky. He wanted out of here. Now was the perfect time to be searching the other guests’ rooms. He looked at Vicky, who was waiting for his response.
“I want us to be happy with each other,” he said, and was surprised at the truth in his words. Vicky shot him an uncertain glance.
“Okay. You don’t feel that you’re happy with each other now?”
Ryan looked between Vicky and the therapist. “Well, we kind of argue a lot,” he commented. She nodded in agreement.
“I see. What do you argue about?”
Ryan shrugged. “Mostly little things. Everything.”
“Like what? Give me an example.”
Vicky sat back and folded her arms, waiting. She looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.
“Who drives,” she muttered quietly.
“Yeah, that’s a good one. We always argue over who drives.”
Gavin stared at him for a moment. “Who...drives?”
Ryan nodded. “Yes. I drive.”
“He never lets me drive,” Vicky said, leaning forward.
Gavin nodded and made a note. “I see.” He looked up and smiled at Vicky. “And what about you, Cassandra? What do you want out of this relationship?”
Vicky unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her thighs. Ryan couldn’t help but look down. She was wearing designer jeans that showed off the length and shape of her legs.
Look away, damn it. Look away.
“Uh, I want someone who really sees me, appreciates me,” she said. Ryan frowned. He saw her. He was seeing her legs at the moment. He was surprised. He’d seen her wear jeans, but he’d never noticed they looked this good on her before.
“You don’t think Peter sees you?” Gavin asked.
“Well, I think sometimes I fade into the background. You know, someone to pass the time with in between—” she looked at him briefly before returning her attention to the counselor, “—in between business trips.”
Something inside Ryan unfurled at her words, her vulnerability. “I see you, all the time.” He did. They worked together. He kept her in his mind’s eye, always thinking of her, visualizing her. But more than that, whenever he was away on a mission, thoughts of Vicky kept him balanced, centered.
“No, you hang out with me when you’re in between girlfriends,” Vicky muttered.
His eyebrows rose. “I spend more time with you than any of them,” he pointed out.
Gavin coughed as he scribbled furiously.
Ryan ignored him. He liked spending time with Vicky. He did. She could be fun, when she wasn’t busting his chops about something. Admittedly though, he enjoyed that, too. She cared about him. That wasn’t a gift he was prepared to risk. He got to switch off with her, relax. Let down the guard he seemed to always employ with his work.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m too easy for you,” Vicky admitted. “No challenge.”
Ryan snorted. “You? Easy? Puh-leeze.”
She frowned. “I am easy for you. I don’t demand anything from you. Not like bobbleheaded Barbie.”
Ryan grimaced. She was right. Bobblehe—uh, Barbara, had been very demanding, in the end. From shopping trips that still gave him starts at the sound of a cashier bell, to weekends away, to dinners, to picking out damn outfits for her purse-sized puppy.
It had been constant, and she hadn’t been happy. He hadn’t wanted to make her unhappy, so they’d agreed to part ways.
“Barbara is different to you. She fulfilled things in me that you...can’t.”
Sex. Pure and simple. He was talking about sex. Vicky was someone he cared for, and someone he worked with. She had no idea that to him, she was home. He didn’t have family, Vicky had kind of adopted him. He always came home to her. She always challenged him, made him laugh, sometimes frustrated him so much he wanted to cry, but all in all, she was special. He didn’t want to complicate what they had with sex. If it didn’t work out, he’d lose everything. His friend. His family. His identity. She was his anchor.
He leaned back into the sofa. Crap. He didn’t want to talk about this stuff.
“What about Penny? And Charmaine? Lisa?” Vicky asked, her voice quiet. “Did they...fulfill you?”
Not really. It was just sex. “Uh,” he began, then frowned. “How do you remember their names?”
“Of course I remember their names! I book your damned dates, remember?”
“Whoa—what?” This time Gavin stopped to stare at her in shock. “You make arrangements for your husband to date other women?”
Ryan frowned. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“Of course it sounds bad,” Gavin said, then took a deep breath. “Sorry, I mean, it’s a bit of a red flag, I must say.”
“Oh, and let’s not talk about last year’s Christmas party, huh? Talking about it might actually make it seem real,” Vicky snapped, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
Chapter Twelve
Ryan’s mouth dropped open. Oh, wow. There it was, front and center. The Christmas party. They’d never spoken about it.
“The Christmas party?” Gavin asked.
“Nothing,” Vicky said quickly. A little too quickly. Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“No, no, you brought it up. Lay it on me, babe. By all means, let’s talk about the Christmas party. What about it?” Her whole manner had chilled toward him since then, and he’d been the perfect gentleman.
“Wha-what about it?” she repeated incredulously. “Do you even remember it?”
He felt a headache explode behind his right eye. Did he remember it? God, he dreamt of it, awake and asleep. “Of course I remember it,” he muttered. Reese had organized the event for MSA staff at the restaurant of a classy hotel in downtown Chicago.
“Oh, so you remember the balcony?”
He remembered the dark green dress she’d worn that had brought out the deep color of her eyes, the way the soft fabric had clung to her breasts and hips, the way her legs had looked all curvy and sexy in fishnet stockings that had him fantasizing about what kind of underwear she’d been wearing. He remembered that seductive scent, feminine, alluring, sexy. He remembered the balcony, the way she’d swayed up to him, smiled, and waved some mistletoe over his head.
He remembered smiling back, thinking she must have enjoyed a few glasses of champagne if she was stealing kisses from everyone. He remembered a small twinge of regret in that this was the only way he could get close to her. He remembered leaning down to kiss her. He’d only meant it to be a light peck, but she’d turned her face at the last moment, and he’d planted one on her mouth. That was how it had started. Innocent. Fun. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised, but they hadn’t stopped there. No, the kiss had quickly changed from innocent to something decidedly sinful.
Slow, sexy, and completely carnal, his lips had tasted heaven. His tongue in her mouth, his hands on her body, what had started out as fun had set flame to something that burned hot and bright and out of control. He’d backed her up against a wall, hands underneath her dress, before either of them had a chance to think.
And Vicky? No protestations, no hesitations, no reser
vations. No, she’d given as good as she’d gotten, and if a waiter hadn’t dropped a tray on the other side of the door, then they would have had their own private Christmas celebration.
“I remember. You were tipsy.” She had to have been, to have waltzed up to him with such a seductive smile on her face, daring him with a stolen kiss, tempting him with her uninhibited response. He’d never seen her like that before—confident, sultry. So different than the friend he thought he knew so well. It was ultimately why he’d stopped. When he made love to Vicky, he didn’t want it to be a drunken episode at a Christmas party. Whoa—when he made love to Vicky? He caught the mental slip. That suggested inevitability, as if it was a definite. No, not when, if. Wait—if? Only a mere possibility? No, that was worse. Oh, God, just stop thinking about making love to Vicky.
Her jaw dropped. “I was not.”
“You were going around to everyone with the mistletoe, babe.”
“No, I...” her mouth opened, as though she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. She blinked and shook her head. “So, that made it okay for you to leave with another woman?”
Ryan hesitated. She’d seen that?
Vicky nodded. “Oh, yeah, I saw that,” she said, as though she could read his mind.
“It’s not what you think.”
Vicky’s hands rose and fell in exasperation. “You kiss me on the balcony, but go home with another woman? What am I to think?”
Ah, hell. He’d stopped because he cared for Vicky, respected her, and if he was completely honest, just a little spooked by the emotion of the moment. If he hadn’t stopped then, he wouldn’t have stopped at all, and then she would have woken up with a hangover and a ton of regret, and he hadn’t wanted to be one of Vicky’s regrets. That would have changed everything, and he would’ve lost his best friend. His only true friend.
He’d been aroused and frustrated when he’d left, and the woman at the bar had been friendly and willing, only he couldn’t. Vicky had started the fire that had raged through him, and only Vicky could put out the flames of his arousal. Besides, what kind of schmuck would he be to substitute one lover for another? Nobody else would do. He’d dropped the woman off at her door, without even a goodnight kiss, and he’d gone home to a cold and lonely bed.
For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency) Page 11