She tossed her clothing on the floor and stepped into the shower stall. The water came out hot and strong. Standing beneath it, she prayed for calm and relaxation. She simmered and steamed instead, then sank down wearily to the floor and felt the water sting as it hit her flesh.
Walking out on him had been the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
But it had been the right thing to do, she was certain. She had always said that any woman who stayed with a man who saw other women was a fool. She had been dreaming of a church wedding and her cousins lined up as bridesmaids and ushers, but Ryan had merely been passing the time.
A gentleman, Joe had said. Her cousin had called Ryan Dandridge a gentleman.
In his way, maybe he was. Ryan opened doors; he was courteous. He could also take what he wanted, and he brooked no opposition. And once he had wanted her. He had come after her with relentless determination, and she had fallen. She’d never doubted his intention of seducing her, nor had she ever underestimated his power to do so. His eyes alone could do incredible things, seeming to touch her very flesh when he looked at her. His kiss was full of sensual, intimate promise. He bred the clouds of fantasy with his lightest touch.
And he brought out the very worst in her, she reminded herself. She had never fought so terribly with anyone else in her life. She had told herself that she wouldn’t cling, wouldn’t be jealous, but he would stay out too late, or receive a few too many telephone calls, and she would find herself simmering inside. The agony of the wondering would make her ill. She would go somewhere, anywhere, hoping that he would wonder and worry, too. And then the fights would start. No, she would start them, because she didn’t seem to be able to help herself.
He never mentioned marriage, and he never mentioned commitment, and finally, when she realized what she was doing, she made herself pick up and walk away from it all. But she hadn’t really left him, not at all, because it felt as if she still slept with him every night. He plagued her dreams relentlessly. He interfered every time she met another man, because she couldn’t help comparing the two of them, and it seemed that every man came up lacking compared to Ryan Dandridge. It would change, she vowed to herself. All she had needed was time. Time to forget Ryan. And she could have done it, she could have. Except that he had walked back into her life at the most inappropriate time!
Lucia rose and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower stall and briskly dried herself, then dressed, donning her swimsuit and the big white overshirt with the pink flamingos. She slipped into a pair of sandals and stormed out of the room. She wondered where her cousin Dina was. It didn’t matter. She would see Dina and the others later, before she left. Unless she could convince Ryan Dandridge that he should leave.
She wanted to see the children, she thought. All her little second cousins. She wanted to see Theresa’s and Bill’s children; the baby would be three now, and Lucia hadn’t seen her since she was nine months old. This wasn’t fair. Not one bit. Damn Ryan Dandridge a thousand times over. She had twenty-five relatives here in this one spot, and the man was going to ruin her chance to enjoy their company.
As Lucia walked through the condo, she saw things she hadn’t noticed when she had come in last night. The living room and dining room were combined, while the kitchen was separated by a wood block counter, with wonderful old-fashioned bar stools set in front of it. There was a coffee maker, and also a microwave, and the wallpaper had a country design. Large plate-glass windows gave way to a huge balcony that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. There was a barbecue grill on the balcony, and a number of cushioned redwood chairs. The entire effect was very nice, and she bit her lip. Ryan was good, she thought grudgingly. Whether he restored an old single-family house or created a modern multifamily dwelling, he was good. He thought about the things that made a place convenient and comfortable, and also about the things that were artistic and pretty and pleasing to the eye. He was a talented man—in so many ways.
Swearing softly to herself, she turned and hurried out the door. She could hear sounds from next door, the apartment that Aunt Faith and Aunt Hope were sharing with their husbands. She could smell the delicious scent of broiling bacon. Her stomach growled softly, but she ignored it and looked down to the courtyard and pool below her second-floor terrace, then up to the floors that rose above her. The building was five stories tall, with parking underneath. The condos here all looked as if they had been built on stilts. It was to avoid flooding, she knew. Joe had told her so when he had given her directions to the place.
His “friend’s” condo, where he had gotten such a wonderful deal for the family.
The condos were privately owned—by Ryan, she knew now:—and rented out as vacation apartments. They really were wonderful.
Damn Ryan.
Not at all sure what she could say or do to make the man leave, Lucia turned toward the elevator. Luckily, no one seemed to be out and about yet; she didn’t see any of her relatives. They were all still inside their apartments having breakfast, or maybe some of them had already gone down to the beach. Her Uncle Paul loved the water. Whether they were in Maine or on the Cape or vacationing in Florida, Uncle Paul headed for the beach first thing. The children were probably already out, too.
Lucia stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the fifth floor. The elevator worked silently, and in a second the door opened. She just stared out for a moment. She was suddenly feeling cold and a little bit frightened, and she didn’t know why.
Yes, she did. She shouldn’t confront Ryan. She shouldn’t even take the time to say goodbye to her family. She should hop into her car and drive as fast as she could toward home.
She stepped out of the elevator and walked determinedly toward the only door on the fifth floor. She raised her hand, then let it fall. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with it. She turned around, ready to go back downstairs.
The door was suddenly thrown open. Ryan was there, staring at her. She didn’t like the hard glint in his eyes as he leaned against the door frame and smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. His chest was still bare, but he was wearing a pair of black bathing trunks with a little red in-signia on the left leg.
“Were you coming to see me, Lucia?”
“No. I was lost.”
He looked around inquiringly. “Lost, huh?”
“I pushed the wrong button on the elevator.”
“You always were a rotten liar. So you were coming to see me, but you decided to run off without a word, instead. That does seem to be one of your best talents. Running, that is.”
“I wasn’t running.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then come in.”
She hesitated, stiffening. She had come up here to talk to him; she should do so, and then leave.
“Thank you.”
She swept by him and into his penthouse apartment.
It was beautiful. The entry and the kitchen were bright and floored with marble tiles, and the living area was carpeted in cream. Colorful seascapes covered the walls, and the furniture was all of light pine, to accent the cool shades of the floors and walls. The rear of the apartment was glass overlooking the ocean, but the sheet glass doors went around to the side, too, overlooking the courtyard. The deep balcony went all the way around, and she saw comfortable furniture, a barbecue and a Jacuzzi surrounded by a wall on one side and foliage on the other. Very intimate and very private. She instantly wondered with whom he had shared the Jacuzzi, then hated herself for wondering. It wasn’t her business anymore. It was over between them.
The door closed behind her. She started and turned around to see him looking at her grimly. “What’s the matter, Ms. Lorenzo? Are you afraid to be with me?”
“Of course not.”
“Just checking.” He took a step toward her. She jumped back, and he laughed, walking into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”
“No.” It smelled wonderful, though. “Yes.”
“Decisive. You know, I like that about you, Lucia.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“Why not? The situation demands it.”
“You caused the situation.”
“I did not.”
“You knew I was coming here!”
Ryan poured out two cups of coffee and set the pot down. He automatically added one spoon of sugar to Lucia’s, then left his own black. He looked at her over the counter. “Lucia, I had no idea that you were Joe’s cousin.”
“He’s an Italian from Massachusetts!”
“Lucia, I’m willing to bet that there are at least a million Americans of Italian descent in Massachusetts.” He shoved her coffee cup across the counter. “Besides which, you live in Georgia.”
“But you knew that I had family in Massachusetts!”
“Lucia, I live in Massachusetts. That’s why a lot of my friends are from there. And forgive me, but every time I meet someone with an Italian name, I don’t ask if they happen to be related to you. Besides, I’ve known Joe a lot longer than I’ve known you.”
“You have?”
“I have.”
“You never mentioned his name.”
“I probably never had a chance. You didn’t stick around long enough. And neither did you—mention your cousin’s name, that is.”
She picked up her coffee and sipped it too quickly, lowering her eyes. She didn’t know if he was telling the truth or not, but the large apartment suddenly seemed small. She shouldn’t be here with him. From the moment they had first met, she had felt a dangerous attraction. She had wanted to touch him. And here he was in that skimpy bathing suit. It was too easy to remember the good times, the times when they had lain together and made love and laughed. Times when they had ordered pizza in the middle of the night, or gone for late walks in the snow and come in to be warmed by the fire. The good times…when she had allowed herself to trace patterns over his face with her fingertips, to explore the length of him. She wished fervently that they hadn’t been so close, that intimacy had not come so easily to them. Then she wouldn’t be standing here now, thinking that she hated him for being here, too, and simultaneously longing to go running into the kitchen, just to touch him again.
She didn’t need to walk into the kitchen; he was walking out of it. He headed for the window overlooking the ocean and looked down at the water.
“You must have known!” she whispered.
He stared at her. He smiled, and a pulse beat quickly at his throat. “You know what I think, Lucia? I think you knew. I don’t know what your game is yet, but surely Joe must have mentioned my name somewhere along the line. I’ve known him for years. Years and years. How do I know that you didn’t know exactly what you were doing? Maybe you even went to Joe for help in getting close to me again. Maybe you walked out and then you just couldn’t stand it—you had to get back into bed with me, so you arranged this whole thing.”
She stood still for a minute, then exploded. “You idiot!” she accused him, and before she knew it, she was tearing across the apartment. She wasn’t sure what she meant to do to him, whether she intended to toss her coffee on his chest or aim for his handsome but oh-so-smug features.
It didn’t matter. He was ready for her. It was almost as if he had antagonized her on purpose. Before she knew it, the cup was plucked from her hand and she found her wrists clamped tight behind her at the small of her back. She stared up angrily into his eyes, demanding that he set her free instantly.
“What’s the matter, Lucia, you didn’t run fast enough this time?”
His face was so close that she could almost feel his freshly shaved cheeks. She wanted to lay her own face against the breadth of his chest.
It seemed that everything inside her was pounding like a massive drum, beating out a hot and deadly rhythm. Her flesh had come alive. She ached, and she realized bleakly that he was right. She did want to make love to him….
But she hadn’t planned it! She hadn’t planned any of it! All she wanted was for Ryan Dandridge to get out of her life.
“Why did you come here, Lucia?”
“Let me go.”
“Answer me first. Why did you come here?”
“To ask you to go.”
“What?”
“I want you to go. I want you to go back to Rhode Island or Massachusetts—or to Tombouctou. I don’t care, just so long as you leave.”
His face seemed to lose all its color. His hold on her wrists grew so tight that he hurt her, but she wouldn’t let herself protest. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. I’m begging. Please, Ryan. This is important to us, to all of us. I don’t get to see my family that often, now that I live in Atlanta. Please try to understand, I want to see my family.”
“Who’s stopping you?”
“You are!”
“I’m not!”
“You’re here!”
“I own this place!”
“Yes, but—”
“Lucia, you’re not being reasonable.”
“I want—”
“You want, you want. Same old story, isn’t it? You never were reasonable. I don’t know why I should expect you to start now.”
“Ryan, if you don’t leave, I will.”
“Right. Run again. You handle things so well. What are you afraid of, Lucia?”
“I’m not afraid of anything!”
“Then why are you running?”
“Oh!” She tugged hard on her hands, desperate to escape his hold. She could feel his flesh burning through the thin material of her T-shirt, and her breasts were hard against the wall of his chest. They were far too intimate.
“Ryan Dandridge—”
“Why did you run away, Lucia?”
“Ryan, it wasn’t working out—”
“Why?”
“Would you please let me go?”
“Why? So you can take a swing at me again?”
“Let me—” She tried to kick him.
“Hey!” he protested, and before she knew it, he had set a foot behind her ankles and she was tumbling to the floor, with him on top of her. She struggled in silence, but he straddled her and caught her hands, lacing his fingers through hers.
“Lucia, you have one of the worst tempers I have ever encountered.”
“It’s only my reaction to your conceit!”
“Well, try this on for conceit. I’m not changing my plans for your convenience, Ms. Lorenzo. You’ve already put a few dents in my armor. I’m not going to let you do it again. Got it?”
“Ryan—”
“So what are you going to do?”
He was too close, and she was far too vulnerable. She could feel the callused pads of his fingers and, despite herself, she remembered how erotic they felt moving lightly over her bare flesh. She felt the muscled tightness of his thighs, and saw the blue fever in his eyes. She didn’t want him touching her…because he had touched her too often in the past, and the past was gone.
“I am going to leave.”
He let out a sound of disgust. “Coward,” he said softly.
“Damn you, Ryan.”
“I’ll tell you what, Lucia. I won’t leave, but I will promise you this—I’ll do my best to avoid you. How’s that?”
“I don’t—”
“I’ll stay away from you. This isn’t a huge place, but I’m sure we won’t run into one another that often. Then, if you’ve got any guts at all, you can stay.”
She felt her breath coming too fast as she stared up at him. For a moment they were both silent. She started to tremble, and she hated herself for it. She always gave away too much of her emotions. Ryan was always in control, cool and hard; he gave away nothing.
“Ryan…”
“You think I can’t stay away from you, Lucia, is that it? You know, the first time I saw you, I couldn’t stay away. I never wanted a woman so badly in my entire life. I never saw eyes so dark, or hair so glossy. The second I looked at you, I was tra
pped. I had to stare again and again. You were the most beautiful and absolutely sensual woman I had ever seen.”
He lowered himself slowly against her. He came so close that his mouth was just half an inch from hers, so that the whisper of his words caressed her cheeks and teased her lips.
“I had to meet you, Lucia. I just had to meet you. And then, when I got close, I found out that I liked everything about you. I liked the way you were so indignant at first. I liked the way you handled yourself. I liked the scent of your perfume, and I was in love with the flash in your eyes. That very moment, I was hot and desperate, and I wanted you.”
Closer, closer he came, until the movement of his lips as he spoke was something that she could feel.
“I liked your voice and your laughter and the way you tossed your head when you were excited. I liked the feel of your hair, and the brush of your fingers, and the closer we got, the more I liked, the more I needed, the more I had to have. Lucia, you’ve got beautiful skin, and a beautiful sway to your hips, and the most beautiful breasts….”
She hadn’t even realized that he had let go of her wrists, but suddenly his hands were on her. Through the T-shirt and her bikini top, his fingers caressed and cradled the fullness of her breast, and the sensation, after so much time, was shocking. It made her warm, and then it made her hot and trembling and frightened, all at the same time. She had to stop him.
“Ryan…”
His lips came down on hers in a kiss that was strong and passionate. She didn’t even think to protest.
It felt so good, so right.
His mouth covered hers firmly and persuasively. His tongue plundered its way inside, demanding more, and then more. By the time she did think to protest, his lips were locked with hers, fervent and wet and demanding, and his tongue was stroking the soft inner flesh of her mouth. Feelings erupted inside her, sweeping down the length of her. It had always been like this. No matter how angry she was, he had only to touch her, and she didn’t care about anything except her need to be with him. His kiss awoke passion and hunger. She wanted to thread her fingers into his hair, to take more and more of him. She wanted to arch against him and move her fingers over the bare wall of muscle on his chest. She wanted to stroke his back and tenderly touch his cheeks and breathe the scent of him forever….
Lucia in Love Page 3